Remember Me
by PhoenixWillow476
Summary: When his flight to Chicago is delayed, Tobias is left struggling under the circumstances of returning to his childhood home. It's been years, but now that Marcus has died, Tobias must return to tie off the loose ends. However, after getting to know a fellow stranded passenger, he soon realizes his week back home might change everything he thought he knew, especially about his past.
1. Chapter 1

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: This is a modern day Divergent AU. Characters were based off of Veronica Roth's characters, but are not exact replicas in characterization due to different circumstances involving their plot and histories in this story. I tried to incorporate as much of Veronica's ideas and vision/insight surrounding her characters in this as possible, so some snippets are from the books themselves (usually in internal dialogue). I do not own any of those selections and used them to try and keep the integrity of the original characters._

 _Rated M for language, adult themes, etc, though more so in later chapters than in the begin._

Chapter One

It couldn't be a worse day for flying, with everyone flying home after their holiday vacations. Throw in the adverse weather sweeping over much of the country right now, it's chaos. Of course, I happen to be going to one of the places being hit pretty heavily right now. Not that I should expect anything different, considering it's January in Chicago. It just makes this whole situation that much more FUBAR.

The Sky Harbor is so packed, I'm ready to call Mr. Vega to cancel this whole thing, tell him I don't give a damn what he does with the situation at hand, but that's not going to fly. If only I could have such luck.

The line for security screening is understandably long, stretching long past the parameters set up. It doesn't make it any less stressful or aggravating, with kids crying and whining, people talking loudly, announcements being made, and machines beeping and rumbling.

This is going to be a long night, especially because there's already some delay for my flight. I just hope it doesn't get delayed any more than it already has...

It takes half an hour before I reach where the line starts twisting due to the parameters set up. Once I'm a few rows in, which takes another fifteen minutes or so, my chest tightens slightly. It's not exactly confinement, but with the noise of my surroundings and the distinct bickering coming from a couple next to me, though technically behind me in the line, it may as well be.

Another loop around, and I'm back next to the bickering couple. I can't catch what they're saying right now because they're keeping their voices down at the moment, so I look them over.

The guy is tall, though not as tall as me, with a bulky build, greasy blond hair, and a sour expression. The girl he's with is also blonde, but her long hair is clean and shiny, falling straight down her back. She's petite, but she stands in a confident, sure stance, and there's a steadiness in her expression that doesn't make me underestimate her for a second. Sure, she might be close to a foot shorter than I am, but I've learned that being tall or big isn't always an advantage. Hell, she's got that much less body to move and control. The small ones are often the fastest for that reason.

The guy whines, albeit in his deep voice, "It's going to be miserable. You do know it's going to be below freezing, right?"

The girl's expression hardens, clearly aggravated, and her blue eyes remind me of electricity. "I am well aware, as you have been telling me several times a day for the past week," she snaps.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that," he snaps right back. "You know better."

"Excuse me?!" She is looking away from me but I'm sure her expression could melt ice, especially given the way he shrinks ever so slightly. Hell, her voice is one that says, 'Go ahead, piss me off. Watch what happens.' It'd almost be comical if it wasn't for the fact that he's being a total bastard to her. The line moves, however, and I'm too far away now to hear more conversation.

When we are side by side again, they're in a stony silence, and the girl looks livid. She won't even look at the guy, and he seems unconcerned with the whole thing.

Around again, and this time they're arguing again.

"You don't seem to grasp how important this is," he fumes.

" _I_ don't understand? Are you kidding me?"

"Careful, your blatant ignorance is showing, Little Loca."

She rounds on him, face bright red in anger. "What did you just call me?!"

Then the line moves again. This time, I'm actually frustrated. I'm vicariously angry, with the way this guy is talking to his girlfriend or whatever the two are to each other. I'm ready to kick his ass, but this is none of my business in the first place. Still, I can't help but want to know what's happening.

By the time I've looped back around for the final stretch, to my surprise, the guy is nowhere to be seen, though the girl remains, her head shaking in disbelief. There's some residual anger, sure, but I can see a hint of relief, too. I don't blame her.

The line moves up, and soon, the girl is too far behind me to even see without turning to look for her, so I try and just keep my eyes ahead. This fails once I'm going through security, as I turn around to collect my cleared items. I can see her in line, her entire stance tense as she looks intently at her phone. She seems to be reading something. _Move on, Tobias_.

I make my way to my gate and find an empty chair in the respective seating area. There aren't a lot of people around as of yet, probably because they've heard the flight is already delayed a good hour. Not that I'm complaining.

To pass the time, and to ease my mind, I pull out my sketchbook and flip open to a blank page before I glance around, looking for something to sketch. I take in the other people waiting for the flight: an elderly man in a suit with a briefcase that looks as old as he is; a middle-aged couple who won't even acknowledge each other; a few women in their thirties who chat animatedly; a man with two teenage sons who are each solely focused on their phones; and a woman in her twenties with a baby asleep with his head resting on her shoulder and her little girl, no older than five, with long honey blonde hair.

Without much thought, I decide to sketch the mother and children. They sit across the aisle and down two seats to my left, so it's fairly easy to see their expressions and features enough to sketch. The mother has a blank look on her face as she stares absently at the crowd making their ways around the airport. Her little girl is sat cross-legged on her seat with a coloring book on her lap, a box of crayons sitting open beside her on the seat. She currently holds a blue crayon, but she's holding it a few inches above the paper with her face scrunched up in thought.

I watch her for a moment, somewhat amused by such concentration. Finally, she cocks her head to the side before nodding, as if she's sure about her decision. She then leans down to start coloring.

I return my gaze to the page and start my sketch, glancing up occasionally for reference. The mother and infant stay relatively unmoving, which would be unnerving if the little girl wasn't so animated. She makes a new expression with each new color she pulls to incorporate, and she puts so much thought into each and every choice. I suspect she'll have a love for art, one day, if she doesn't already.

With a final glance up at them, to check for last minute changes or additions, I notice from the corner of my eye that someone knew has joined the seating area. It's none other than the girl standing in line for security screening. She seems a lot more relaxed now than she did before, sitting comfortably in the seat across from me and over one to the right. She has her eyes closed, as if trying to nap, but the ringing of her phone causes her to open them once more, releasing a sigh to go along with it.

"Hey, Chris," she answers neutrally. "The flight got delayed."

While receiving her response, her eyebrows shoot up, followed by an eye roll. "Figures," she groans. She must still be listening, because she's nodding. When her eyebrows shoot up again, it's with a hint of irritation this time. "Well, you can tell my idiot brother that this is what happens when he chooses to get married in January."

If she's on this flight to Chicago, she really does have a point. Who's dumb enough to chance that?

"Christina! You're preaching to the choir. If there was anything I could have done about it, I would have," she says, flustered by whatever her friend is saying.

"Okay, okay. I get it. And _fine_! Just, pleeeease don't end up with a hangover. You know my mom would freak." She smiles at her last comment, like it'd at least be amusing to witness. Her friend must agree, because she laughs at the reply, though it fades as fast as it came.

"Yeeeaaah, about that," she starts nervously, biting her lip as she closes her eyes briefly. "I may have sent him home before we even made it to security." She barely gets the words out before she recoils from the phone, probably because this Christina chick responded loudly. "Hey, easy with the eardrums," the girl confirms as she winces.

"I am not going to apologize to anyone, especially not my family," she says flatly. "Besides, if they really thought Eric and I would be good together, they don't know me at all." That… could say a lot, especially with the way she says it, her expression heavy just at the idea of it.

It's replaced quickly enough with the expression she sported as the bickering was taking place in line. "He's a complete ass with no regard for others! He's spent the last two weeks doing almost nothing but complain about coming with me to Chicago for my _brother's_ _wedding_ , saying he was going to miss the big fight on t.v. that night. He wouldn't pack his own things, so guess who did it? Me, of course, because of _my dad_ , but what self-respecting, grown-ass man makes his girlfriend pack his bags for a trip? Who does that _period_?! Oh, and don't get me started about the shit storm he rained down on me about the damn weather. He's known about this for months, and _now_ he has a problem?!"

She nods as her friend responds, and then answers with an exasperated, "I know! So I told him, 'If the weather is too much for you, and this fight is so important, I'm not going to hold you back, but I won't continue to date a guy that doesn't prioritize family.' And you know what he said?"

She pauses, giving her a chance to respond before she drops her voice, imitating the guy's voice almost spot on. "'It's not even my family, why should I give a shit?'"

She flinches away from the phone again, though she nods in agreement. "Right?! So I just said, 'Goodbye, Eric. Hope your life is as good as that fight.' Then when he just stood there, I turned and said a few choice words that are not safe to be repeated at the moment," she says, glancing over at the family a few seats to her right that she seems to have just noticed. "When he didn't go after that, I just turned my back on him and said, 'You can go now. I'm done with this.'"

This time I have to suppress a grin, because I can just imagine the look on the guy's face when she said that to him. She gets a proud look on her face, either being praised by her friend on the phone or feeling good about what she did. She should. This guy sounds like a real piece of work.

I take a glance to the mother and children, who are in the same positions as before, though the girl now has a red crayon in hand. She starts looking around her, and as she turns, I see a big purple bow that matches her shirt pinned in her hair on the side facing away from me. It seems like a detail that needs to be in the sketch, to reflect her properly, so I quickly add it. It'll be an artistic liberty.

With my sketch finished, I glance up at the young woman from the line again, seeing as she hasn't said anything in a few minutes. To my horror, when I glance up at her, her eyes are trained on me with an expression I can't read. Usually, my eyes would flit away, but hers hold mine in a way I can't understand.

I give her a curt nod, trying to ease the awkwardness of this moment, which makes one corner of her mouth curl up ever so slightly. _Phew_.

I turn my attention back to my sketchbook as to avoid any further embarrassment on my part, though I can still hear her conversation. Well, what would be a conversation if she continued talking. This Christina chick must be a chatterbox, because the girl hasn't even gotten in an "uh-huh" in the past few minutes.

"Well, look at the bright side," I hear her start, finally, "the view is exceptional. You'd be hard pressed to find a better one." I wonder what they're talking about now? She did say her brother was getting married, perhaps the venue? Something else completely? _As if it's my business_.

A couple light taps on my left knee pulls my attention away. Looking up, it's the little girl with the big purple bow. She's looking up at me with giant, awestruck eyes that are a deep amber color, with a solid, dark brown outer ring surrounding the irises.

Seeing as she has my attention, she points at my sketch. "You drawed that?" I nod. "Wow," she says, her voice echoing her expression as she looks carefully at my sketch. "You drawed good, Mister."

"Thank you," I say in the nicest voice I can manage.

"You have any pitchers in a art place?" she asks excitedly.

I'm assuming she meant to say 'pictures,' which is adorable, really, and I'm guessing the word she was looking for was 'museum.' Again, adorable. "I'm not _that_ good. Maybe someday someone will think my pictures are worth keeping in a museum, but for now, it's kind of just a hobby."

She has her eyes plastered on me, clearly still in wonder, but her eyebrows scrunch up at the end. "What's-a hobby?"

This time I laugh a little. "Something you do for fun, or to help you relax."

"Ooohhhhhh," she says before she giggles. "Why is it your hobby? I didn't know growed ups was 'lowed to draw."

I nod seriously. "Some grown ups even have jobs _just_ drawing."

The girl's face lights up like it's Christmas. "Really?"

I nod again. "There's a lot of jobs where people get to draw. Look at all the Disney movies," I say. "Ever see Lion King or Cinderella? People drew that stuff and put all those pictures together to make a picture. Each movie has _thousands_ of paintings and drawings smushed together."

Her eyes have swelled even bigger, like her tiny body cannot contain such a concept, but then she smiles brightly. "Wow! Is that your job?"

"No. I work with computers," I say, and she frowns, like she's disappointed.

"But dontcha love drawling?"

"Well, I draw because it helps me," I say, unsure how to explain the idea that I don't normally ever show people what I draw, and its purpose is not to create so much as to cope or distract.

"Helps you?" she pries, but I know she's just trying to understand.

"Yeah," I say, rubbing the back of my neck. "It helps me when I'm feeling…" I don't want to say scared, because that's a gross oversimplification and wouldn't translate right. "You ever feel bad because you're hearing or seeing or feeling something you don't like? Maybe it scares you, or it just doesn't make you feel happy or safe, or something."

"I don't like thunder," she offers.

This is actually a perfect example. "What do you do when there's thunder? Do you do something that helps you get through it?"

She nods. "Mommy puts on loud music and we dance and sing and make cocoa and play games," she says enthusiastically.

"Does it help and make you feel better?"

"Uh huh," she beams.

"Well, drawing does that for me, when life gets hard. If I have a bad day at work or if I'm not feeling well, I draw and it takes my mind off things. It helps me feel better."

"Ohhhhh," she says, clearly getting it. "So, you're not feeling good?"

I did not think that one through. Oh well… "I don't like flying in airplanes," I say simply, and she nods.

"This my first time on a airplane. Is it scary?"

I shake my head. "Not usually. It'll be really cool for you, especially if you can see out the window. You can see all around, and you'll go through clouds."

Wide eyes are back again, this time she seems to be hanging off of every word. "Wow! You don't like it?" she asks incredulously, as if I was completely shocking her.

Normally, I would feel inclined to shut down this kind of conversation, but she's just a little girl, and our paths are unlikely ever to cross again. So, I decide to tell her the truth, or at least part of it. "I don't like heights."

"Oh," she says, sympathetically, patting my knee like she's comforting me. "So you feel bad waiting for the plane?"

Not exactly, but there's no easy way to explain I'm not a fan of people, especially crowds of them, and even more so if we're all confined together. Sometimes kids take those things wrong, and I don't want to be that asshole, so I shrug but nod. "I don't worry about it if I don't think about it," I say.

"Well, I think if you drawed for a job, you would be happy and other people would be happy 'cause you drawed them or something they love and they could see it all the time. I color pitchers to give 'way 'cause I like to see smiles." It's then that she holds up the picture she must have been coloring, held in the hand that's been at her side the whole time so that I never noticed.

It's from a Disney movie, though the name escapes me right now, as I only saw it once when I was a little kid myself. The picture has a red dragon holding a sword with a cricket sitting on the hilt, with mountains in the background. She did a good job of staying mostly in the lines.

She then offers it out to me. "I want to see your smile and you need something to make you smile," she says simply. "I want you to have it."

Carefully, I take it from her, and somehow, like magic, I break out into the smile she was hoping for, which she returns happily. "That is so thoughtful of you. Thank you so much." Then I get an idea. "Hey, one second," I start, holding up my left index finger, indicating for her to wait. I quickly sign and date my sketch and tear it out of the book, offering it to her.

"As a very special thank you, I want you to have this. You seem to have an eye for art, so if by chance I end up in a museum someday, you can sell this and make lots of money. Just promise me you'll use the money for something that makes you happy."

She beams at me, like I just gave her a puppy or something. She carefully takes it and looks at it fondly. Then she looks at me, as if trying to decide if she should ask me something. "What if I want to keep it?"

"If you decide to keep it, keep it as a reminder that you can do anything when you grow up. Keep it as a reminder that the possibilities are endless, and you can chase any and all the ones you want. Don't give up on your dreams or the things you love."

She smiles at me kindly, and all she says is a simple, sweet, "Thank you."

I give her one last smile before she runs back to her mother, who seemingly has been watching our exchange. She mouths a 'thank you' to me before turning her attention to her daughter. That went… well. I'm not around kids hardly ever, so sometimes, I'm not sure how to handle interactions.

It's been a while here, so I decide to get up and walk around, though not wanting to lug my stuff around, I walk over to the mother and little girl, who both smile at me. "I'm going to walk around. Can I get you anything?"

The mother looks surprised and flattered, though somewhat unwilling to ask me for anything. She must need something, because her lips twist up reluctantly. "We had to throw out our water bottles at security," she starts, and I nod in understanding. "I only have a few dollars on me,but-"

I wave the offer off. "My treat," I say kindly. She is all alone with two young kids stuck waiting for a delayed flight. It's no big deal whereas for her, it spares her having to lug around the kids and their luggage. "Could you keep an eye on my things?"

"Of course," she says happily.

I find a bathroom first before finding a little store that sells food, drinks, and souvenirs, and I buy a few bottles of water and some assorted snacks, having forgot to pack some for the flight. Honestly, though, it's more an excuse to have plenty of variety so I can offer them to the little family. They might not have eaten in hours.

When I get back, I'm greeted by grateful smiles. They accept the water gratefully, and when the little girl sees the package of gummy worms, she turns a pleading eye to her mother, begging her to accept my offer to take some of the snacks as well. I'm relieved when she nods, so that the little girl eagerly grabs the package and hugs it to her chest happily.

"Mommy, can I have some now?" she asks hopefully.

"Okay, Cleo, but just a couple." She turns to me again and thanks me before I head back to my things.

As I'm settling myself, I feel the back of my neck warm up, as if someone may be watching me. Glancing around, I find the eyes of the young woman from the security line on me.

She's watching me, with a curious and somewhat confused expression. The heat from my neck creeps to my ears, but I don't look away. Neither does she, but she does smile shyly.

And I can't help returning it.

 **AN: Thank you for reading Chapter One of Remember Me! This is my first Divergent fanfic, so I'm pretty excited! I'm not sure how long it's going to be, but seeing as I have the first four chapters already completed and edited, and knowing how far it's gotten into the plot, I'm guessing at least twenty chapters. I anticipate posting Chapter Two sometime this week, Prior to Monday. (Ha ha, see what I did there?) Then, the plan is to update every Monday.**

 **I want to give a special shout out to two of my friends, MJ and CP, who have read every chapter so far, helped me with developing a kick-ass plot and bringing this vision to life. They've encouraged me in all of my writing (not just with fanfiction, but with my original works and my poetry), and without them, I'd probably never even pursued this story. I'm so glad I have, because it's been a lot of fun. Oh, and did I mention that I'm really excited for this story?! All I can say now is don't jump to any conclusions! There's quite a few surprises planned!**

 **-Willow**


	2. Chapter 2

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: This is a modern day AU based off of Veronica Roth's Divergent._

 _Rated M (because who can resist a tipsy Tobias?)_

Chapter Two

What I thought would be an hour or two waiting to board the flight has become two hours simply spent waiting for the next announcement of delays. It turns out O'Hare is in the middle of a storm that's worse than they anticipated. They said to plan on waiting another three hours at least, but it could be as much as eight hours. At that point, everyone groaned before leaving the lounge, whether to find something to pass by the time with or to make arrangements for a flight at a later time.

The blonde from the security line was on the phone when the announcement was being made, so she relayed the information to who I guess must be one of her parents before she grabbed her things and went off somewhere. The mother with the two kids decided it was as good a time as any to get her children up too.

I thought about leaving altogether, using this as an excuse to put off a trip to Chicago even further, but the idea of going through all of this again makes my stomach churn painfully, like a metal clamp has clamped down painfully on my insides. Despite the dread of being home, I don't think I can handle imagining Hana's crushed expression if I cancel a trip again. Somehow, the moment I became Zeke's friend, I was her third son. She even had me on her Christmas cards one year, much to the confusion of her extended family and friends. The Pedrads are about the closest thing I have to a decent family, so since I'm already here, I might as well just stick it out. I owe it to them to follow through, and I need to get there before Thursday, anyway. It might as well be now...

Though, while I'm being honest with myself, it isn't going to be easy if I stay cooped up here. Relocating is my best bet, just to wait this out.

There's a place called Blanco Tacos + Tequila that I've been to before that's definitely worth returning to, and it's as good as any place to sit and wait. I order the carne asada tacos and a Corona before finding a little table in the corner to quickly eat, since the bar is full. I take the chair that allows me to watch the bar, in case a seat does open up.

The bartender is very quick, spinning bottles around almost like it's choreography. He flashes a grin to each person as he hands over a drink, but he adds a wink if it's to a woman. He spends a lot of time with one person at the bar, but my view of them is blocked by a group of guys sitting between us. I can't read lips, but I can tell the bartender is flirting, and not because he's trying to get a good tip or anything. He's actually interested, with the way he keeps smirking and winking, even going as far as reaching over to touch them. I can't help but get the sense he's not making much progress. He probably pegged them to be a certain type and completely misjudged.

My phone buzzes and rattles against the side of my beer on the table from a text. It's from Zeke filling me in on what the weather is up to in Chicago. It's 'snowing like a bitch' according to him, and he seems to think I'll be lucky if they don't just cancel the flight altogether.

 _If only I were so lucky_! I down the rest of my beer and stand to throw out my trash, intending to leave, but freeze when I see a particular petite frame seated at the bar. She's the one the bartender has been flirting with, and I can tell by the way she's sitting that she's either oblivious to it or not into it. She did just break up with her boyfriend, after all. After a day like that, I don't blame her for being disinterested.

A middle aged woman that's sitting to her right gets up to leave, and she looks a little flustered that the older woman is leaving. Maybe she had been a comfort? I can understand that, being a young woman alone at an airport, sitting at the bar can be uncomfortable, at best. It's like me with airplanes.

 _I could use another drink…_

There's no more thought after that. The next thing I know, I'm standing beside her. She's leaning up against the bar, the sleeves of her dark grey sweater pulled over her thumbs, her hands wrapped around her glass that is near empty. Her legs are bouncing sporadically under the bar as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth. It doesn't take more than a couple of seconds for her to sense my presence, though, and to my relief, she smiles when she sees me.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" I ask, gesturing to the now empty seat.

"Not at all, feel free," she says kindly.

I place my things under the bar before settling into the seat beside her. The bartender comes over moments later, asking what I want. Seeing as I haven't thought about it, I flounder for a second before I nod at the glass the girl beside me was drinking. "I'll have what she's having."

The girl bites back a smile before she adds, "And I'll have a refill, please."

He quirks his eyebrow at her. "Such a woman of fine taste," he purrs teasingly.

She flushes brightly before she shrugs and turns to me. "So, it seems we keep running into each other," she states plainly, her bright blue eyes looking into mine boldly. "In my mind I've been referring to you as 'the guy from the security line,' and I feel pretty bad about it."

I can't help but grin. "Tobias," I say, extending my hand to her, which she takes firmly. Her skin is soft and warm, and she is much better at the gesture than I am. I always feel like my grip is too harsh and that I never hold it long enough. IT just doesn't feel natural to me.

"I'm Tris. Nice to meet you, officially," she says, laughing a little with the last word.

"Yes, it is," I say as the bartender comes back with our drinks. "I will be starting a tab," I say as I hand my card over to him. He nods curtly before walking off again. With my glass in hand, I raise it to Tris. "To bad weather," I joke, and she laughs, tapping her glass to mine before we each take a sip. I nod approvingly, recognizing the drink as an El Capitan, which contains some kind of Don Julio. "Good taste indeed."

She shakes her head, laughing. "My neighbors taught me well," she remarks causally. "They're from Atotonilco El Alto originally, so I trust their judgement on tequila."

"I don't blame you," I say just as the bartender returns with my card. "So," I begin, taking a sip of my drink thoughtfully. "A January wedding in Chicago." She bites her lip, looking down at her own drink as her cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink that can be distinguished. "Sorry, I just thought it'd be weird if I pretended I didn't hear the one-sided phone conversation you were having ten feet away," I add, rubbing the back of my neck uncomfortably.

"Don't be," she says with a shy smile, "just like I won't be sorry to say I overheard your conversation with the little girl." She looks over at me and gives me half a smile.

"Deal." I give her a curt nod and return the smile before we each drink on it. Though, I won't lie, the idea that she heard that whole exchange makes me nervous as hell. Must not have been so bad, seeing as how warm she's being towards me now.

We sit quietly for a moment as Tris replies to a text she gets. She groans after a minute, burying her face in her hands.

"Was it the idiot brother?" I jest, coaxing her back out from behind her hands.

"It's his father this time," she says, wincing with dramatic effect. "That's to say, _our_ father, who normally is calm and collected in the face of, well, anything, has plummeted into what my best friend calls 'The Void.'"

I choke out a laugh. "' _The Void?_ ' I get the sense your friend is dramatic."

"Oh, normally she is," she admits before drawing deeply from her drink. "'The Void' is a very real thing, though." She shakes her head vaguely. "It was like this when I moved from home. He just starts to worry about anything and everything that could go wrong… and about how completely helpless we are to stop most of it. I can't blame him."

"Ah, one of _those_ dads," I laugh and she grins happily.

"Well, he did grow up in Fuller Park," she counters.

"Yikes. That explains a lot."

She quirks her left eyebrow ever so slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I didn't mean it in a bad way, but maybe making a comment about her neighborhood probably was a bad move. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to joke. It just seemed with the guy you were with earlier, you know, in line at security- _shit_ , of course you know-" I cut myself off, shaking my head to clear it with my eyes shut.

I try again once I take in a deep breath and can muster enough nerve to look her in the damn eye. "It seemed to me that you took care of him quite well. Better than most people would, really. Anyone that grew up in Fuller Park, I imagine, would know how to take care of themselves. I can't say I've met many people with that kind of nerve."

Her gaze turns to one that feels like an assessment; like she's trying to size me up. It's a while before she says, "I never lived there, but I guess it probably rubbed off on me, just with everything my dad taught us." She cocks her head slightly, like she's curious. "Are you surprised?"

"Surprised about what?" My neck heats up, self conscious of what a massive idiot I am, and, apparently, am continuing to be.

She's assessing me again, but it doesn't feel critical. It honestly feels like she's trying to figure out how I tick, which is neither a feeling I'm used to nor one that I particularly enjoy. I have no idea what conclusions she's drawing…

"You said that I knew how to take care of myself. Well, at least from what you saw today, anyway. I'm not saying I-" She shakes her head, stopping herself much like I had. "Is it… surprising to you that I may be able to take care of myself like that?"

Huh? What else would I think? "Not in the slightest," I say firmly; surely.

"Really?" she questions, as if I had said something unbelievable.

"Yes, really. From the moment I first saw you, I could see you were someone not to cross. You have one of those looks," I say, remembering how the guy practically coward when she shot it at him.

"'One of those looks?' What kind of look are you talking about, exactly?" she asks through an exasperated laugh.

I can't help laughing with her. "Oh, you know, one of those, 'If a look could kill you,' type looks."

She's looking at me like I'm crazy. "You must be thinking of someone else," she chuckles, taking a big gulp of her drink. "I am about as intimidating as a hamster."

Now it's my turn to look at her like she's crazy. I have seen children take on guys my size and come out swinging. Size doesn't have to mean anything, but I guess that's not something others can appreciate.

"Do you want to know what I was thinking when I first saw you?" _Stupid!_ I have no idea why that just flew out of my mouth when I don't even remember thinking it. My ears start burning up, the heat spreading down my neck and over into my cheeks. _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_

Her cheeks flush as well, her eyes darting away from mine as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. _She has nice lips… Wait, what?!_

 _Must be the alcohol…_

"Okay," I hear her whisper shyly.

It's too late not to follow through, so I grab my drink, throw back a decent amount before I turn more towards her. "I saw you standing in line. Honestly, at first I was pretty annoyed with the bickering. That's why I was paying so much attention," I say, truthfully. It makes me feel like less of a creep, and I'm surprised she's not thinking I am one, the way things have been going. _Just move on, Tobias!_

"Then at one point, I couldn't hear what you were saying, but you were standing right there, and I remember the way you stood," I say, remembering how sure she looked, about herself, her surroundings. Like nothing could throw her. "I knew from that moment not to underestimate you, not for a second."

Her eyes finally meet mine. The intensity they contain is almost maddening, the way it seems to disarm me enough to rewire every synapse in my brain to one that's more compatible to the energy she gives off. It's honestly… intoxicating.

 _Or maybe it's the tequila…_

The pregnant pause that follows is one of agony, but my teeth clamped on my tongue almost to the point of bleeding takes the edge off as I wait for her to say something. Those eyes keep darting around my face, the bar, anywhere really, but never for more than a second at a time as she digests what I said. It's perplexing. I've never rendered someone speechless before, and now I really don't see that ability as a positive one. This is _torture_.

Finally, she turns to her glass and finishes it. The bartender, who was walking by to refill the guy at the end of the bad, raises an eyebrow. "Easy with the '42."

Once he's out of earshot, she whispers to herself, "This girl needs a 42 to the brain." I can't help but choke on a laugh. "Shit, you heard that," she groans as she buries her face back in her hands.

"I did, and in case you missed it, I laughed."

A few of her fingers spread apart as she peeks at me. "Maybe I _should_ go easy with the '42," she says seriously.

The bartender passes and she stops him before he gets too far off. "May I have some water, please," she starts, nodding to me to order if I want something else. I'm almost done with my drink, so point for one more of what I'm having. She's had two, after all. I'm behind.

"Okay, now I just feel bad that you don't even know what you're ordering," Tris starts, looking between me and the bartender who's smirking.

"Oh, I know what I'm drinking, and how much it costs. This is not my first El Capitan rodeo," I say before finishing what's left of my first twenty-eight dollar drink off as the bartender sets the refill in front of me.

She squints her eyes at me. "Ya could have said something," she scolds jokingly.

"I just did," I tease. "And speaking of saying something, you're not so bad at skirting away from information."

She flushes again, her eyes darting down to her glass. Her flustered face is adorable, especially because it means she's just as nervous as I am. Why do I find that comforting?

"Fine," she says, like she's nervous of how this is going to go. "There are four things that you need to know about me." Shifting in her chair so that she's mirroring how I'm sitting, she meets my eyes confidently, contradicting her hesitance and evasiveness earlier.

"For one, people always underestimate me."

"Why?" I blurt out without thinking. _Stupid!_

The incredulous looks she gives me does not help. "Please tell me you're not seriously asking why people underestimate me."

"I'm told all I do is serious," I laugh, though it's not funny.

She frowns, but doesn't comment on it. "Well, for starters, I'm a girl, and-"

"And what? Not capable of kicking ass? Not capable of sticking up for yourself? Not intelligent enough handle things on your own? If that's what people think-"

"Tobias!" she laughs, cutting off my rant. It cuts me off, all right, because her saying my name makes everything else cease to exist. For a moment, anyway. Hearing my name said blissfully, happily, positively; it feels like I've been sleeping all these years and now, her voice is waking me up.

"Look, it's not just that I'm a girl," she says, pulling me from my thoughts. "I mean, that's part of it. It's more that I'm so small and weak and-"

"Bullshit. Being petite can be an advantage, and you are not weak," I counter. "Seriously, so long as you know what you're doing, size doesn't matter."

"That's what he said," she mutters under her breath. Then her face goes blank before horror sweeps over. "Oh, God, I-"

I don't even hear the rest because I'm laughing hysterically. After a moment, she relaxes, shaking her head at herself. "I walked into that one" I manage, after catching my breath a little.

"You did," she says, at least smiling. "Point is, people underestimate me, whether it's deserved or not.

"Second of all, I don't do well will the whole complement thing. I get all awkward and disbelieving."

"So, you underestimate yourself?" _Why do I keep saying things without thinking?!_

She bites her lip, her head tilted in concentration as she looks me dead in the eye. After a while, she says, "Maybe I do. Or, you could say I do what I can to keep my disappointments to a minimum. How else do you explain me telling my ex to take his non-refundable ticket and shove it someplace where the sun don't shine?"

I can't fight the grin the idea of that sparks. "Please tell me you really said that."

She laughs. "That and more. You did hear my end of that phone call with Christina," she says casually, though she's smirking.

 _She's funny_. "He totally deserved it, though.

"Yeah, he kinda did," she says, shaking her head like she can hardly believe it. "It was such a great moment, seeing him stomp off like the petulant prick he is."

We each share another laugh at the vivid image that plays in my head. Once we've regained our composure and had a few more sips of our drinks, I ask, "So, what's number three?"

"Third thing you should know about me is… I cannot lie…" She sips her beer again idly, like she's killing time. "So, as you can see, that's why I went all speechless. You went full trifecta on me."

I'm about to comment in understanding when I remember, "Hey, you said you had four things I should know."

She smirks again, clearly pleased that I remembered. "Fourth and finally, what you need to know is that…" she pauses, sighing heavily, before she casually says, "One of the first three things is a lie."

It takes me a second before it all clicks, and I bust out laughing, which she joins in on. "Gee, I wonder which could be the lie," I ponder aloud, grinning at her as she chokes on her beer.

"Hey, don't judge me," she says defensively. "That's what I call my idiot-proof test. If people can't catch on and figure it out, and if they can't laugh about it, then I know they're not worth my time. It's a pretty good guide."

"I'd say it's foolproof, but it seems one slipped under your radar." The joke kind of just comes out without any thought and as much as I may think it's true, it's probably not exactly the best joke considering she's only a few hours post break up.

She looks at me like she's offended, but the light of a smile that reflects in her eyes is unmistakable, so I know she's just giving me a hard time. "Hey, now! I'll have you know, I never got to test the theory with him." She cringes, shaking her head. "By the time I had a real chance to try it, he knew too much about me and it wouldn't have worked, anyway."

"Too bad for that, you could have avoided the prick altogether."

"Hardly!" she says, part amused and part flustered. "He is the reason I will never let anyone set me up again."

"Oh, red flag right there," I groan dramatically.

"Oh, so you're some expert, then, are you?" Her eyes are so bright behind her teasing smile, I just want to get lost in them.

Now is not the time for it. Damn this tequila!

"Not an expert, but I am pretty good at spotting an ass from far away."

She smirks again, and I know I walked into another joke, but she doesn't take it. She doesn't have to say it for me to laugh again. "Are you always like this?" she asks, laughing. "Not a complaint, but I _am_ curious."

I'm about to flat out answer, but I get an idea. I turn a little more towards her as I throw back the rest of my drink. I smack my lips and sigh happily, which makes her giggle, shaking her head in amusement.

"Three things you should know about me, but one of them is a lie," I say, allowing my own smirk to take over. "One." I hold up five fingers, looking at them thoughtfully for a second before returning my eyes to hers. "I can count on one hand the number of people I consider friends… mainly because I don't get along with most people, and most people don't like to deal with my bullshit," I say through a laugh at the last part, mainly because it's way too true.

"Your 'bullshit?'" She quirks her eyebrow at me questioningly.

"I can come across as a prick," I say honestly. "I'm not exactly the warmest person ever… I'm polite most of the time, sure, but usually only on a surface level. The moment anyone tries to get to know me, I get unreachable." My neck heats up again and it takes a lot of conscious thought not to rub at it. "Most people know very little about me, because I'm usually vague, thanks to my problem with specificity.

"I mean, look at my best friend! I've known the guy since I was sixteen and he only ever found out my last name a few weeks ago," I say, laughing uncomfortably. "Anyway," I say before clearing my throat, "long story short, I don't get close to people."

She's looking at me again with another expression that I can't quite figure out. Her eyes are intense and focused on me like she's x-raying my brain and decoding my DNA or something. Her lips show a hint of a smile, but there's a sadness present that almost counteracts it. I thought I was good at reading people, but I'm having little luck with her.

Instead of thinking about it, I continue. "Numero Dos," I say, feeling even more embarrassed by what I'm doing, but seeing how it'd make it worse if I gave up now, I ignore it. It's not like we'll see each other ever again after this flight. "I am deeply suspicious of people in general. It is my nature to expect the worst of them."

I don't even look at her as I say it, and the moment the words have fallen from my lips, I want to take them back, but it's definitely far too late for that. So instead, I plow on. "And for three, I hate music."

My eyes finally meet hers again, just in time to see the transition of expressions. The first shows little change from the last time I looked at her, as she seemed to be trying to dissect my brain with her gaze alone. Then her jaw drops like I just said something truly horrific, like, 'I don't like puppies,' or something.

Then she gives me a look reflecting that she knows that's the lie. She goes on to say, "That was way too easy. How can anyone not like music?"

Even though my truths seem to be lingering in the air, Tris doesn't bring them up. Despite their vague nature, it's like she understood what I was talking about without needing the words to do so. I won't lie, it's nice not having someone give me that look, like I'm some invalid who's one rough shove away from shattering. She's not itching to run, either, which is new, too.

Either this tequila is hitting me harder than usual, or there's something about this girl that is just intoxicating me beyond any realm I have ever come to know prior to this. I've never felt more comfortable having a conversation before. I've never even opened up this much at any given time ever. But for once, I swear, I don't care in the slightest. If anything, I'm counting my lucky stars for the shitty weather.

Whatever it is that's happening, I'm in for the ride.

 **AN: Wow! I am so blown away by the response to the first chapter! All of you have been lovely and kind, and I'm so happy people are enjoying it. Makes writing that much more rewarding.**

 **To answer some questions: This will be a Fourtris story, but I haven't decided if I'll add Tris' POV in later chapters or not. For a while, it'll need to be strictly Tobiass POV (I promise there's a good reason!), but I would love to hear what you all think as we go along. While I have most of the major points of the story planned out with where it'll be going (big picture), I'm open to suggestions or ideas. Hell, if it weren't for my friend CP, the plot wouldn't even be what it is today. Initially, the story would have probably ended at the end of what currently is Chapter 4, but CP pushed me to think bigger and pitched some really great ideas, and after hours of working it all out with her, it's evolved into something bigger than I anticipated this story ever becoming. So, I love any and all suggestions, not just for this story, but if there are any other ideas you'd like to see written.**

 **I've jumped into fanfiction writing because I find it's really good to brainstorm and practice different writing techniques, so that when I go to write my original novels, I've worked out a lot of little quirks and blocks before I even reach them.**

 **Last but not least, I want to thank everyone again for their support, reviews, follows, favs, views- all of it. It means so much to me! Especially big shout out again to MJ and CP. Couldn't have done any of this without them!**

 **I am so excited to post more! Chapter Three will by up sometime Monday.**

 **-Willow**


	3. Chapter 3

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: This is a modern day Divergent AU. Characters were based off of Veronica Roth's characters, but are not exact replicas in characterization due to different circumstances involving their plot and histories in this story. I tried to incorporate as much of Veronica's ideas and vision/insight surrounding her characters in this as possible, so some snippets are from the books themselves (usually in internal dialogue). I do not own any of those selections and used them to try and keep the integrity of the original characters._

 _Rated M for language , adult themes... eventually..., etc_

Chapter Three

The bartender comes back around and we each order another Corona, though I'm sure we both should start slowing down. I'm toeing the line of my better judgement, and being around Tris doesn't feel like a chore or punishment. I'm smiling, laughing, joking, talking, opening up. _This shit does not happen_. I need to make sure I don't lose it while I'm with her. I'm not that guy, and I'll be damned if a few drinks interferes with that.

"So, Tobias," she begins with a content sigh, "what's bringing _you_ to Chicago in January of all times? Hopefully not an idiot brother's wedding."

I offer her the best smile I have, but my reasons for being in Chicago are not under pleasant circumstances in the slightest, nor are they well known, thanks to my vague references. I decide to tell her as much as I've told Zeke and Shauna. "I wish," I start with a little laugh, trying to keep it light. "Actually, I'm headed there to handle a funeral and other arrangements following the death of… someone I've known for a long time." I rub the back of my neck, trying not to look at Tris because if I see pity, I might lose it. "The guy was a real piece of work, if you know what I mean, and he will not be missed by anyone. That was the type of life he lived, though, so he's getting exactly what he asked for."

It's hard to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but I manage enough to stay civil. She's quiet for so long, though, I wonder if she senses it.

When it becomes too much, my eyes search hers out, and she's looking at me with a sour expression. _Oh, God, what did I do? What did I say? I screwed this up, I totally-_

"I'm guessing he was the one who made you responsible for handling all the arrangements?" she asks softly. I nod once before rubbing my hands up and down my face. I barely catch her whisper, "What a bastard," under her breath, and suddenly I'm smiling. She must see it, because her lip gets pulled back between her teeth.

"You should stop worrying about the little comments. I find them funny and refreshing."

She grins happily. "I'm just not really ever around people that appreciate my, er, intoxicated-level of candor. I blame Christina," she groans. "That woman does not operate with a filter ever, and after years of being friends, I guess she's, er, she's altered mine a bit," she finishes, her cheeks tinting pink. _God, I love it when she blushes._

 _Stop it, Tobias!_

"I'm sure the tequila doesn't help," I say. "Sure hasn't helped me," I add, laughing nervously.

"What? Tobias, no, you're fine!" she tries to assure me, but I know I'm making an ass of myself, I have to be. I hear her sigh and mumble, "Fine is an understatement," so quietly, I almost don't hear it, but somehow the words find their way to me. I don't acknowledge them, as much as my heart is leaping at the thought, because I'm pretty sure it's just the tequila talking.

I know I'm further gone than I thought when she somehow gets me to agree to playing a get-to-know-you drinking game. _Stupid!_ We'll take turns guessing something we think we know about the other. If the guesser is right, the other has to take a sip. If they're wrong, they have to drink. Whoever finishes their beer first is supposed to buy the next round, but we decide we'll order food instead, seeing as we've already had a lot to drink in a short span of time, and who knows when our flight will be ready to finally leave? We need to stay coherent.

She starts with, "You're from the Gold Coast," a proud smile adorning her face as my jaw drops.

"How… did you know that?" I ask before taking my obligatory drink.

She taps her forehead, near the part in her hair on the right side of her face, a smug smile tugging up her lips and igniting her eyes with amusement. "I am perspect-perskept- _ughh_!" She scrunches up her face, shaking her head rapidly before she spits out, "per-cep-tive!" Her eyes fly open, her mouth open in a wide smile. "I got it!" she says gleefully before she laughs at whatever face I'm making.

 _Well... that was adorable._

It's my turn and I have no idea what to guess, so I think about what I already know: she has both parents and a brother… no mention of anyone else, so I guess, "You only have the one brother. No other siblings. I'll even sweeten the deal and say you're the younger kid."

She narrows her eyes playfully at me as she takes a drink of her beer. She ends up with all the luck, though, because the next five straight rounds, she guesses right every time, while I only guessed that she grew up in the North Side of Chicago, Lincoln Park to be exact, that she sings, and that she's never had pets.

Somehow, she guessed that I was an only child; that I left home early, though she didn't venture as to why; that I, too, have never had pets, to which I had playfully protested that she stole my question and that it shouldn't count; that I now lived alone in Chandler; that I own a truck; and that my favorite genre of music is the blues.

It's her turn, and if she guesses correctly again, my beer will be gone and she wins. I don't mind it working out that way, but at the same time, I don't want to stop playing. I love learning about her and surprisingly, I don't hate telling her about myself, even if it's a simple yes or no answer most of the time. Her cheeks are rosy from the alcohol and her last bout of laughter, after the bewildered expression I gave in response to her last comment about the time she _did_ leave the country, but to her misfortune, it was to pick up a friend from a strip club.

"Ummm," she starts, scrunching her face up in thought once she remembers it's her turn again. Her eyes dart around the bar quickly before she gets a bright expression of realization. "Oh! I know," she says in a sing-song voice that's light but piercing, trilling just slightly at the end of her note. She smiles at me happily as she guesses, "Your favorite color is blue."

Our eyes meet, and all I see are her irises that are a shocking shade; the only shade that matters. They're as bright as mine are dark, and if I could get away with it, I'd stare into them for more than is socially acceptable.

I never thought I had a favorite color. I rarely showed a preference to any one color, other than liking darker, more muted tones to bright, garish colors. Yet, here I am, fixated on her blues… maybe I did have a favorite color, just hadn't ever known it existed until I saw it right in front of me.

She almost seems surprised when I finish off my bottle, but then she breaks out in the biggest smile. "I win with seven in a row!" she cries out happily, albeit a little slurred. "Hey, you got four right, tha's pretty good!"

"Hey, it's only seven if you count the one you _stole_ ," I tease her.

"Either way, I still won, _Four_ ," she says with a grin.

"Fine, _Six_. What do you want to eat?"

Her face lights up as she remembers the prize for winning. We order some nachos and she munches on them happily, though sloppily. Every time she spills, she makes this adorable pouty face that drives me nuts in the best way.

"Oh crap!" she whisper shouts as I'm putting a chip in my mouth and I almost choke when I look over at her, seeing how she's struggling with a chip. She must've jerked her wrist too hard, thus smearing guacamole onto the tip of her nose. The whole thing ends up breaking in her hand, falling into her lap, and she squeaks out in alarm, staring down at the mess in defeat. I have to laugh because she makes no move to clean it up, so I take a napkin and nudge her with my elbow, holding it out to her. She shakes her head, like she's breaking from a daze, before cleaning herself up.

The plate is nearly empty when I break down and ask, "How did you figure out all of that stuff about me?"

She giggles happily, her cheeks flushing brighter. "Per-cep-tive," she repeats, like earlier, not even trying to say it cohesively in her inebriated state.

"What gives you your clues?" I press, genuinely curious on how she could figure so much out about me.

"I saved one of the easy ones for the end," she said, pointing at my black t-shirt. On the front is the Phoenix Blues Society logo, and suddenly I understand. "As for the truck, you'd mentioned earlier that you drove out here on your own, one trip." She pops the 'p,' which ultimately makes her giggle before she continues. "Jus' figured you'd probably had-a truck if you'd done that. Ummm… what else," she trails off, trying to think.

"Oh, and about Chandler. That's where Intel is, and I heard you tell the small human that you work with computers, so it was just an edumac- _ugh_!" She stops herself for a moment, struggling with a word again. " _Educated_ guess," she finally gets out slowly. She shakes her head to clear it and carries on like nothing happened.

"Living alone was just a stupid guess, though 'cause I just, I don't know, I guess I just thought that if, well, if you're not married, you either have roommates or you live alone, and you didn't seem like a roommate type of guy but I just wasn't _thinking_. I don't even know why I even assumed you're not _married_. I mean, you don't have a _ring_ on but that doesn't mean anything. But then, I would guess your wifey'd be here for something like _this_ ," she says, waving around before she stammers on, almost frantically. "But who knows! I don't know, stranger things have happened!" she starts exasperated, sucking in a deep breath to continue, I'm sure, but I throw up a hand to stop her.

"Tris, breathe," I try to say gently, but my voice shakes with an amused laugh as her face flushes a much deeper shade than it was moments before, her lip being mercilessly trapped between her teeth yet again. "You guessed right, didn't you?" I say in a soft voice.

She smiles shyly. "Still," she starts, though this time she seems a little less worked up.

"Still nothing. And just so it's on the record, I am not a roommates type of guy, and I've never had a relationship with anyone serious enough to live with them. Hell, I've hardly even ever been interested enough in someone to even say I've had a relationship before," I laugh, before actually physically cringing at myself. _Stupid, idiotic, dumb, drunk-ass-_

"Okay, now you're just try'na boost my ego," she says happily, like I just made her whole night.

As embarrassed as I am to admit I've never been in a relationship before, and that I rarely even take interest in people, she doesn't even reflect on it. If she even registered it, it doesn't seem to make her upset. If anything, she's more comfortable now than ever.

I raise my right hand and say, "I swear on my life it's the truth."

She looks at me like she can hardly believe it. "What are you saying, Four?" she asks, and I have to laugh that she's still calling me that name.

"Most people suck," I deadpan and she busts out laughing with me. The bartender is starting to give us sour looks, but I think he's jealous that Tris and I are so comfortable talking and laughing, getting to know each other, and that she wouldn't even reciprocate his flirting.

Although, I'll admit, I don't feel like we're meeting. It feels like I've known this woman for my whole life, and after so many years apart, feeling like I've been asleep, or like my head has been pushed deep under the depths of a vast body of water, suddenly, the world is clear and bright and alive. And so am I, now that she's here. I can't say I understand how or why she has this effect, but I can't deny that I'm not going to let it go. _This is what they talk about…_

 _Stop it!_

I force myself to continue to nip those thoughts right in the bud. "Seriously, though, like I said, most people don't put up with my bullshit, and I am deeply suspicious of people. I always seem to think the worst of anyone I meet, with very few exceptions."

"Like who?" she pipes up curiously.

My heart rate doubles in just seconds, because really the only person I can think of is her. We just met today, that'll freak her out for sure…

"I mean, Zeke and his mom, Hana, and I guess his brother, Uriah, fit under there. They put up with the bullshit, which included me being paranoid and suspicious of them for years." _That's… not a better answer._ "On the flip side, there's you, with whom I seem to trust and actually enjoy keeping company with. And you do not, in fact, suck. Now the bullshit thing, well, that's a bridge you have not had to cross, so…" _Well… that could have come out a lot worse._

My neck is heating up fast as I feel her eyes on me, but not wanting to be a coward, I meet her gaze, my heart skipping as I look into her unblinking eyes. She stares for a minute before she slowly says, "That is a bridge I will happily cross with you." That has to be the tequila talking, but my heart leaps anyway.

"Well, I won't hold you to anything," I say softly, my eyes finally leaving hers since the intensity is too great.

"You don't have to. I'm stubborn, so I can hold myself to it," she says firmly, like she's stating a fact.

"I'm sure you would," I laugh.

She's smiling at me and my heart is pounding in my chest.

There's way too many people here. I just met this mesmerizingly fascinating woman a few hours ago, after she broke up with her douche-bag boyfriend. Naturally, it's likely and unsurprising that she'd be uninterested in _anything_ right now. Considering I have about as much experience at this as an awkward grade-school kid, and I can't even be sure to understand what my brain is trying to tell me, I would normally run for the hills, take cover, raise my defenses, and close off.

It's different this time. As much as I don't know about this, there's one thing I _do_ know, and it's that I want to kiss her.

My gaze keeps catching on her mouth, drawn every time she bites that damn bottom lip or when she smiles or when she laughs, which is almost always at this moment. She's being distracted by her water that she's sipping on idly, or by a story she's trying to remember so she can tell me, or anything else, so she doesn't seem to notice my intense focus on her. I'd be mortified, but still, my resolve is dwindling, fast.

 _No! I cannot be that guy!_

I'm reprieved when her phone rings and as she looks down at the screen, she frowns uncomfortably. She mouths, "Sorry!" to me as she answers with a, "Hi, Mom."

Like the conversation with Christina in the lounge outside our gate earlier, I only hear what Tris says.

"Mom, there's no way it would have worked out. I know the timing was bad, but-"

She's cut off, her lips pressed into a stressed, tight line. After a moment, she shakes her head and says, "He didn't even want to come! He would have ruined it for everyone, _especially_ Caleb. I know Dad really wanted things with Eric to work out, but he and I are not compatible at all."

She's quiet for a moment before she's biting her lip again. She does it a lot when she's uncomfortable, whether it be she's embarrassed, nervous, uneasy, or unsure, it depends. _I'd love to be the one to-_

She looks over to me, catching me staring at her mouth. I don't look away, just meet her eyes as my face heats up. She just smiles at me thoughtfully before she responds, "What if I can find a solution?"

She's quiet as her mother responds, not taking her eyes from mine for a second as she listens. I don't dare break this connection, though my heart feels like it could burst at any second.

"We have a few days. Let me come up with some ideas and I can let you know tomorrow." She looks away, down at her glass of water like it might be an inspiration to her.

I tune out the rest of the conversation as I focus on finishing my own glass of water, which only takes about a minute. She turns to me, then, a cute smirk on her face that is _killing me_.

"How would you feel about going to a wedding while you're in Chicago?"

 **AN: Three down! Sorry it's shorter than the first two, but I hope the fun made up for it. I had to do a drinking game, and I really wanted to bring out these first, early interactions with Tris and Tobias, and the alcohol has been the biggest instrument in them lowering their defenses. Plus, I got to incorporate the nicknames, so I hope this has been fun. They'll get to Chicago, soon, I promise! For some clarification on timeline, as of right now, it's Sunday night (they'll land in Chicago early Monday morning), and the two are only in town for about a week. So, there's plenty to come.**

 **Thank you all again for all your support. And the feedback. Whoo! I've cried happy tears more than once (as MJ can confirm). You all have been so kind and helpful. Writing this fic has become so fun, and I'm so excited to share more. I'm thinking, so long as I can keep two or three chapters ahead of whatever is currently posted, I'll continue to post twice a week. I will keep posting Mondays for sure, though, at the very least.**

 **One question for you all though... would you like music suggestions?I have a playlist I listen to including songs that, in one way or another, sparked inspiration for scenes in this story, or at least capture the characters or the events really well. I have one for Chapter Four I can include, if anyone is interested in having some music to go along with writing. (If they're listening to a song in the story, I will include the artist and title so you can enjoy the music with Tris and/or Tobias). Just let me know!**

 **I'm currently writing Chapter Six, and it's already a lot of fun, so once I have it finished, and I get a start on Chapter 7, I'll post Chapter Four. Thank you, thank you, thank you, again, for the support, the help, the encouragement, the reviews, the follows, the messages. I'm so grateful to you all!**

 **-Willow**


	4. Chapter 4

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters do not belong to me. Characters and some ideas are based off that series. Etc etc etc_

 _Rated M for language, adult situations, etc (Give 'em time - this_ is _Fourtris after all)_

 **Quick AN-** My own little personal disclaimer, in addition to writing stories and fanfiction, I also write poetry... aaaaand sometimes I get carried away... so if you ever see some metaphor vomit, just say hi to the angsty poet sitting in the corner. She doesn't get out much ;)

 _ **Previously, at the end of Chapter Three**_ _:_

 _She turns to me, then, a cute smirk on her face that is killing me._

 _"How would you feel about going to a wedding while you're in Chicago?"_

Chapter Four

 _Is she… Did Tris just..?_

I can't help but grin as I ask, "What, like a date?"

 _Seriously, Tobias?!_

We both blush, me more so than her, and I hastily start to apologize. I only get to sputter out a few unintelligible words before she cuts me off. "Don't apologize, Tobias, it's okay. That is a reasonable question…" Her voice drifts off, unsure what to say. "Tell ya what." She's practically bouncing in her seat a little as she turns more directly towards me, looking at me plainly but boldly. "I'll lay it all out there and you can tell me."

I'm so entranced by her at this point, I just nod, contentedly, which makes her grin again.

"So, my brother, Caleb… the idiot one," she starts, giving me a significant look, "doesn't have a lot of friends left in Chicago. His _fiancée_ has many friends, and Caleb _insisted_ I be in this thing. Now there's this big bridal party with not enough groomsmen to escort and whatever. So, at the time my dad set me up with _Eric_ ," her face twists into a disgusted look, like his name physically pains her, "he was very excited that there was one less guy to worry about.

"So now, _apparently_ , the whole wedding seems to be falling apart because I seem to have lost my escort down that ol' aisle," she says dramatically. "I am _not_ speaking to Eric again if I can help it, and all of the guys I know in Chicago are either already in the wedding party or need to stay as far away from it as possible. Except for, well, you, now, so..." she finishes softly, her words trailing off significantly.

"You want me to come?" I've never been to a wedding before, but I'm sure they're nice. There's a hype for a reason, I'm sure...

"If that's not too weird," she says anxiously. "I know we just met today, but I think you're great. You're certainly better than Eric and I'd definitely rather spend the night with you." _She's going to blush in three, two, one- Ha! I totally called it._

"You've stuck around with me this long," I laugh, though there's too much truth weighted to the comment for me not to tense up as I say it. Usually people have stormed off angrily by now, especially women, so the fact that she's even talking to me, let alone in good spirits, is completely foreign.

"And in case it's just 'cause the alcohol, don't worry, there'll be lots of that at the wedding," she says happily.

"Oh, then how _could_ I say no?" I tease, nudging her side with my elbow. She squirms a little, like maybe I might have got her at a sensitive or even a ticklish spot. _Duly noted._ "Honestly, though, it will be nice to have something good to do while I'm there. Funerals aren't exactly my idea of a good time, especially when I'm in Chicago again for the first time in nearly two years. Even if the guy was a bastard, it's not going to be some party."

My chest feels tight at the mention of Marcus. Tris has no idea who Marcus is to me, but I'm terrified of the idea of her showing me pity. Even still, she's got this expression that seems so out of place: a mixture of anger, sympathy, and intense thought. I haven't the slightest idea what that could possibly be coming from, but I won't say anything. I won't go down that road myself.

But I may just follow her, if she does.

She must decide not to say anything, though she does not seem to push away the emotions she's experiencing. _Probably saving it for another time_. I'm not sure if that's a comfort or a threat, but I'm still determined not to be the one to say anything about it. I'm relieved when she finally asks, "So you'll come?"

It's so hard not to just smile like a child at Christmas. There's no mistaking it, she wants me to come, and whatever it is she's angryabout, it's not because of me. At least, not enough for her to decide she doesn't want me around after all. _She did say she liked me better than Eric_.

 _Like that'd take much._

I'm so in. I'll take any more time I have to figure out whatever it is that's happening between us. "I'd love to."

She smiles so brightly, thrilled to hear my agreement. Her eyes are a bit glassy, and her words are still slurred enough that I haven't forgotten we've been drinking heavily. As we continue to chat happily, I make sure she drinks a glass of water, and it's not long before we both feel the need to go to the bathroom. Besides, we should head towards the gate again, to check on the status of our flight. We quickly close out our tabs, to the bartender's relief, before we decide to get our things to go.

As we stand, my head spins slightly, just now registering the tequila. It always sneaks up on me like that, though I've not had enough that I can't keep myself steady as I stand. Tris, however, about topples over the moment she tries to stand. My left arm snakes around her waist automatically, holding her steady against my side as her eyes seem to grow wide with shock. She's so petite and lean, I expect to feel her bones pressing into me, but her waist is soft.

"I think that's the tequila," she whispers.

"I think so, too," I whisper back, my lips just inches from her ear, causing her to shiver. I don't remember leaning in this close to her, and even if I had decided to do it, I'm a lot closer than I mean to be. I can smell her hair and it smells of something sweet that I can't place at the moment. I would be embarrassed that I'm acting so foolish, so forward, if she had, for even just a second, pulled away. But she doesn't pull away, so neither do I.

Carefully, I help her walk to the bathroom, keeping my arm around her. She's rambling about something, and I'm trying to keep up with it, but I'm distracted, my mind addled by the feeling of her body through her sweater. This is something new for me. Never has this gesture affected me in this way before. I have had my arm around women, drunk and sober, and it never meant anything or felt significant. This, however, is Tris. I'm coming to find nothing about her, or hell, nothing about _me_ is normal.

 _Tobias, you sound like a damn lunatic._

When we finally reach the restrooms, she assures me she's fine to go in on her own, now. I'd wait by the door, but I have a real need, too, so I just nod and run to the men's room. A few minutes later, she meets me back outside and we head back to the lounge outside our gate. She still leans against me as we walk, but I force myself to think about _anything_ else as we go.

It's there at the gate that we hear that the flight will be boarding in about an hour, seeing as the worst of the storm has blown through. At this rate, we'll be landing in Chicago sometime after 3:30 AM.

We settle back in the collection of seats by our gate entrance. The mother with the two young kids is back, this time with both children asleep. Everyone else is either still out and about, or have left altogether. Tris decides to sit right next to me, this time, which I am definitely happy about.

Over the next twenty minutes, people have slowly trickled back, and pretty soon, it seems most people are here and ready to board. There's still a good forty minutes, but at this rate, everyone's just ready to get on the plane and get this night over with.

That's when it all comes back to me, hitting me like a sledgehammer to the gut. The impact triggers my heart rate, doubling its pace in seconds. I'm about to get on a _plane..._ for four hours... possibly _if not likely_ passing through storms... My chest aches from the pounding of my heart, the tightening of my chest, and the forced labor of breathing deeply. I feel desperate for an excuse to do _anything_ but board the plane.

Despite being intoxicated, Tris senses my shift in mood and seems to just _know_ what's happening. Just moments ago, she had been humming to herself as she was looking up a fact, though I wasn't paying attention to what she was talking about. _Asshole._ Prior to that, she was chatting happily, unconcerned about anything.

Now, she's turned in her seat so she can better see me, her eyes bright and attentive. She brings a hand up to rub my left shoulder softly, soothingly. Her touch is as soft as her voice. "Is it better or worse at night?"

I don't question what inspired her to ask that. I don't question how she seems to know _everything_ about me. I don't question why she even gives a shit about me, let alone enough to try and help. I just answer her without hesitation. "It's better if I can manage to sleep. If not, it's worse because it's impossible to see for myself what's happening."

She nods, her expression hard to read. "What can I do?"

"A 42 to the brain would work," I try to joke like she had earlier, but my voice breaks at the end and my body is too tense to even pretend to be at ease.

"Hey," she soothes, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze before she trails her fingers lightly over my shoulder and down my back, tracing strange patterns and pictures into the fabric. "Just think about all the fun you'll have getting drunk at some strange idiot's wedding while laughing at his equally idiotic sister, who will probably be equally as drunk and full-out embarrassing herself."

I have to grin at that, because if she's anything like she is tonight, I'll be more than happy, though I'll need to find some serious restraint. There's nothing more tacky than crashing a wedding and causing a scene by doing something the family disapproves of. I don't think Tris would complain, though… _would she?_

My heart rate speeds up, but this time, it has nothing to do with the plane.

Tris must mistake the increase as anxiety or something. "Hey, I have an idea that might help."

I don't respond, because she took my hand into both of hers, her sweater sleeves pulled down over them again. Her right thumb is rubbing circles into the muscle at the base of my left thumb, sending goosebumps down my extremities from the soothing gesture. I've never felt anything like this before, and it feels so comforting, even for just a small gesture. It feels like she's mindful of every molecule of my being and the pent up intensity that boils just below the surface almost always.

"Do you think you could draw something?"

My eyes snap to hers, which look at me with the gentlest expression. Normally, her eyes are bright, intense, piercing… but right now, their light is softer, like the glow of Christmas lights reflecting off the snow at night.

"I don't- I'm not sure I- How did you know I- Oh, right, _the kid_! I forgot…" I tail off awkwardly.

She smiles at me sweetly. "I overheard what you said to her. I thought, I don't know, maybe it might help ease your mind before the flight?" Her cheeks flush brightly, as if she's suddenly worried the idea is stupid, but it's not. _She really pays attention_ …

"I've never…" _Speak, Tobias! It's not that difficult!_ "That was the first time I've even shown anyone one of them. No one's ever watched me draw them before…"

Her blush intensifies as she stammers," Uh, yeah, um that's a- that's not, um…" She bites her lip briefly before she finally gets out, "That's not true."

I give her a questioning look, which makes her flush even darker still, her eyes darting away nervously. "I, uh...I was watching you earlier." She meets my eyes again, continuing in a soft voice I can barely hear. "While you were drawing the little girl and her family, I was on the phone with Christina. I spent most of that time watching you… and, well, you were mainly just drawing but..." She bites her lip nervously, unwilling to continue, but I get the drift. She already admitted she watched and overheard the interaction with the little girl, and I caught her watching me after that interaction.

"I don't know what to draw," I admit. I'm way too distracted to know what I could focus on, especially when all I want to focus on is-

"You could draw me." She looks nervous about suggesting it, but her eyes have lit up with a familiar intensity, like she's channeling some much needed nerve. "That way I won't be able to watch you."

It's not a bad idea, though it makes me exceedingly nervous, the idea of consciously looking her over and attempting to bring her to life on the page... I doubt my ability to capture her correctly, but I can't imagine not seizing this chance.

Carefully, I pull out my supplies and get situated before I turn towards Tris, looking her over. I don't intend it to be anything other than to assess and observe her, but somehow, the moment feels oddly intimate. _Focus, Tobias._ She has a long, slender neck, and when her head is turned _just right_ , the lines and contours are soft, yet distinct. Aside from her eyes and her mouth, it's the place my eyes are most drawn to.

Getting up, I have her sit on the seat so that she'd be facing me as I sketch her, but I help her find a focal point behind me and off to the side to concentrate on. I want to capture her with her neck turned, while still being able to draw her face. It's an ambitious move, considering I actually know this person and want to capture her right, but I do it anyway. Taking a chance on a chance, I guess...

Every time I touch her, to turn her head or to lean a shoulder back or adjust an expression, her skin flushes, warming beneath my fingers. She doesn't mention it, and neither do I. If anything, my fingers linger slightly longer than necessary, desperate to take in every ounce of warmth I can.

Before long, she's a pure vision, and not in a fleeting moment or a flash of an expression. Then again, I feel like every moment has felt like this with her. She embodies a natural, fiery intensity… like looking into the sun. It's almost painful, and now that she's burned into my memory, it's not likely I'll ever be able to see things quite like they were before.

Still, I don't trust my memory to do justice to this, to _her_ , so it's up to me to capture it now, and this is how I want to remember her.

Nodding happily, I softly say, "Okay, now try to hold as still as you can."

"Okay," she replies just as softly, her smile settling.

With her eyes looking away from mine, it's easier to truly look at her; to capture every line of her face, the precise way her hands rest in her lap, every shadow and ray of light that reflects in her eyes. I get lost in everything that is her... both the woman sitting in front of me and the vision I'm creating of her on the page beneath my fingertips. Time seems to stop, or cease to exist, or fast forwards or _something_ \- they're making announcements in preparation for boarding before I know it.

When I finish, I sign and date the picture, smiling happily. Selfishly, I want the moment to last just a little longer, so my eyes linger on her. Her image burns into my brain, with her blonde hair hanging off her one shoulder, exposing her neck and the hint of her collarbone peeking out of the top her sweater.

Her eyes glance over and find mine instantly, as if drawn to them, catching me looking her over, but no longer working. "Everything okay?" she asks softly.

Nodding, I offer her a direct smile. I mean to tell her I'm finished, that I was just checking my work, or that I was just working on finishing touches, but that's not what I say.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

The brightest, most brilliant smile I have bared witness to graces the most beautiful face I have come to know. It's a smile she cannot contain, flickering in her eyes like sparklers at midnight on New Years Eve, and swirling melodically in the laugh that escapes her and in the color that invades her creamy complexion. I wish I could capture _this_ moment, where she is hardly anything short of exquisite.

"Tobias," she starts self-consciously, biting her lip as she struggles to find words.

"You don't have to say anything," I say quickly. "I just wasn't sure if you knew, and you should."

Somehow, she flushes even darker, but she just smiles at me shyly before she asks, "Can I see it?"

Giving the picture I drew of the little girl to her was one thing. She's young and has no idea if I'm any good or not. She has no idea the pain and anxieties and torment that gets pressed into each page. She has no grasp on the big picture behind each work. She doesn't know what they mean.

Tris, however, sees it all, and I worry my visions will terrify her. Yet, being the subject of a work of art is just as vulnerable, if not more so. Her purpose in all this was to help me. It'd be selfish to close off to her now, especially when I know she's not a threat. Somehow, I trust her inexplicably. I know she is not a threat to me, and she won't ever be. I don't have to tread on eggshells, not with her.

Carefully, I hand her the sketchbook, which she handles with equal care. The moment her eyes fall upon it, a look of awe washes over her. They dart all over the page taking in every line, each little shadow that I shaded in carefully. As the seconds pass, her lips curl up into a wondrous smile.

"Tobias," she finally says, her head shaking a bit. "This is… If it weren't for that fact that I was sitting right here, I don't think I could believe that you just drew this, and so quickly. It's…"

She's at a loss for words, still staring down at the picture as I remain fixated on her. "It's merely a reflection of what I see," I say without thinking, though it's not untrue in the slightest.

Her eyes meet mine, her smile warming them and thus warming me. She goes to respond, but then an employee announces that our flight will start boarding now, and that it's time to get up.

Reluctantly, we look away and gather up all our things, the moment lingering on our cheeks and beating in our chests.

 **AN: Uh, yeah, I had a little fun writing this chapter and I hope you all had fun reading it. Speaking of which, oh my WOW there have been a lot of readers! Thank you all so much! I appreciate it beyond what mere words could express! You all have been making this experience beyond anything I could have thought. It's been fun and challenging, but already so rewarding! I'm experimenting with a lot of different things in this fanfic that I've never done before, so I'm excited to see how things go!**

 **As far as where I'm at, I finished writing chapter six** ** _officially_** **today and it's almost 8,000 words long! I thought I just wasn't being productive this past week in writing, but nope! It was like chapters one and two combined, so that'll be a nice chapter to look forward to. (Hint- we finally get to meet some other characters other than our main duo, and you all will see the unreasonable amount of time I spent on google maps and zillow to figure out everything.)**

 **Chapter Five is finally in Chicago. No more airports! I will have it posted sometime Monday! Thank you again for the continued support. I appreciate all the reviews, favorites, follows, reads, and messages. It means so much to me!**

 **-Willow**


	5. Chapter 5

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters do not belong to me. Characters and some ideas are based off that series. Etc etc etc_

 _Rated M for language, adult situations, etc (channel some inner The Weekend , 'cause "I feel it coming" [Just trying to diffuse the tension])_

 **AN- There were two songs that I listened to on repeat at times to write this chapter, and I feel like I channeled a little bit of those songs into my writing. So, if you'd like, check out 5AM by Amber Run and Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood. I'll put a note before the scene where they really come into play, but they could work for the whole chapter. Happy reading! (And listening?)**

Chapter Five

It's just after four when we touch down at O'Hare. To my sweet relief, the alcohol made it easy for me to ease into slumber once we were up in the air. Well, that and the memory of the hours I spent with Tris and the comfort it seems to bring me. Something about her presence made all of this possible, and continued to during the flight, even though she was seated near the back of the plane, while I was at the very front.

We didn't talk about what we'd be doing after the flight; whether anyone was coming to pick her up or if she was taking the train, like I was. My nap on the plane seems to have countered the effects of the alcohol, so as I wait for her just outside the gate in order to go down to baggage claim together, I feel a little nervous. It almost feels like I'm meeting her all over again, now that my thoughts aren't addled by the alcohol.

She's the last to get off, so she's not lost in the crowd and I get a good look at her from afar for the first time since I saw her standing in that line for security. The bag that's up on her shoulders pulls her sweater tighter around her frame, no longer hiding her shape but accentuating it. _Move your eyes along, Tobias_. Her blonde hair is a bit tangled, probably from her own nap, and as she gets closer, I see some residual sleep lines on her left cheek. Despite being half asleep, her expression is striking.

When she sees me, she smiles widely. "You made it," she says as she approaches me, giving me a light nudge with her elbow.

"Thanks to you and that tequila, I was able to relax and sleep."

"Yeah, me too," she laughs. "Is anyone picking you up?" Her voice is soft and politely, but I get the sense she really hopes I'm not, just doesn't want to be disappointed.

"No, I'm taking the Blue Line."

Her face lights up. "Mr. Gold Coast is slummin' it like the rest of us?" she teases with a wink.

"I actually prefer the L. Beats having other people driving me around, and I don't want to ask Zeke or his mom to come out of their way to come get me when I can just as easily get my ass on a train. Spares them the hassle, especially at this god awful hour."

She's looking at me with that look again, like she's dissecting my words and trying to understand them. I don't quite understand the expression because I have no idea what's so interesting about what I'm saying. Though it does make me uncomfortable, I'd be lying if I said it bothered me enough that I wanted her to stop. I'm just not used to people paying this much attention to me in such a long time.

"Do you mind if we go together?" she asks. "I'm taking the L, too, and now that I think about it, I'm not looking forward to taking the trip by myself."

Her eyes have dropped to the floor, down towards my shoes, and her face has flushed a warm, rosy color. She's playing with her fingers and the ends of the sleeves of her sweater that are pulled down around her hands again, nervously waiting for me to say something.

"That'd be great." She seems to relax, her eyes meeting mine. They're relieved, and happy again. "Baggage Claim?" I suggest, nodding towards the sign.

"Yeah," she grins, and we head that way.

By the time we have our things collected and get ready to board the train, it's nearly five A.M., but I'm wide awake, thanks to the nap on the plane. Once one has arrived and is ready to board, Tris and I manage to snag one of the back corners in the car that's in front of us, where we stash our things for the ride. "What stop are you going 'til?" I ask her.

"California," she says. "You?"

"Damen."

She's beaming, as if she can hardly count her lucky stars right about now. "This worked out kind of perfectly," she says brightly.

I nod, returning a smile to her. I don't mind taking the train, but it will be infinitely better having good company along for the ride.

"Other than the whole delay thing," I tease.

"Hey, I'd never have gotten the nerve to talk to you if there hadn't been plenty of time for me to throw back some tequila, so I'm looking at that as a perk," she says plainly, but the moment she finishes talking, she turns bright red.

As if it's my natural reaction, I grin at her blush. "Well, when you put it that way," I start, winking at her. She smiles, but also blushes even darker. _Maybe we're not as sober as we think we are._

We fall into a comfortable silence as the train finally leaves. Tris gets a text, so she's looking at the screen in her lap, responding quickly. I decide it's time for me to text Zeke, to confirm I made it in safely. He said Hana, his mom, has plans for us later, so long as I got in at a reasonable hour. I'm not sure this counts, but with my nap and all, I'm thinking it'd be okay. I want to make sure I spend as much time with what few people I care about left while I'm already here.

Once my text is sent, I find Tris is setting her phone down. "Christina wasn't able to weasel me out of wedding duties today," she groans. "That means breakfast with both mothers of the happy couple, two grandmothers who I have heard are fiesty old things, my brother's fiancée, her maid of honor, and Christina, all together at nine A.M.. Then who knows what." She sighs, and groans again. "By the time I get home, I'll be lucky if I get to sleep an hour before they force me up."

"People and their damn plans," I growl, but thankfully Tris doesn't miss the humor in it.

We joke back and forth for a few minutes, especially about the idea of all those women hyped up on wedding excitement. Tris admits she's not one for the hype. The idea of it being some giant spectacle annoys her. "Why not use that money to get a house or something practical!" she had said rather loudly, causing the guy in front of us to actually scoff. The look on her face after, though, was priceless, with its mixture of embarrassment at being so loud and expressive,and irritation that the guy kept shooting looks at her, as if it were a crime to have a conversation.

"So when is this wedding?" I ask eventually. "I should probably put it in my calendar."

"Shit!" Her eyes widen, horrified. "I'm such an idiot, I didn't even tell you any of this!" She looks genuinely upset with herself.

"You're fine, Tris. It's been as long a night as the day it followed. There's been a few distractions."

She's giving me a look that I can't peg down, but my cheeks warm up in response anyway. Her eyes are bright, practically twinkling with what I can only read as being amusement, and her lips are curled into a faint smile, though I can tell she's trying to suppress it. Then, all too suddenly, she frowns, as if she just remembered something important. "Still, what if you hadn't reminded me?"

"Moot point, now," I say, which makes her give me a smile.

"The wedding is Saturday, but Friday is the rehearsal dinner. If you can make it to that, it would be a huge help, but I understand if you have other plans and can't make it."

"I'm free on Friday anytime after noon."

She grins, like she's relieved. "So you think you'll be there?"

"Absolutely. As I said, I don't mind having good things to look forward to while I'm here."

Her face is sad as she nods. "Are you up for some other things to do this week? Because if you're okay with it, it might be better if you met my parents and brother outside of the rehearsal dinner, since so much is going on, you know?" She doesn't give me a chance to answer, embarrassment clearly sweeping over her. "I mean, if that's not too much to ask, or if that'd even be something you'd be okay with, because it's weird or something. I don't want you to feel-"

"Tris," I interrupt gently, stopping her rant. "It's a good idea. They probably will be a little weirded out by some random guy coming to their son's wedding. I'd want to know the person beforehand. Besides, it doesn't have to be fancy, we could all meet up for coffee or something ."

"Oh, no, that'd never happen." Tris gives a little shake of her head and a bit of a laugh. "If my mom knows she's meeting you, there's going to be a whole family dinner. I mean, seeing as you're… going to be… you know…"

She bites her lip, closing her eyes in horror. "I forgot to impress that by, er, escorting me, you are also in the wedding. As in, _in_ the wedding."

"As one of the groomsmen?" I'm not really upset, just surprised that they'd want me to do this, let alone let that asshole back there that Tris broke up with do this.

"Yeah," she says uncomfortably, her eyes not meeting mine.

"Tris, it's okay. I'm just surprised, that's all."

She sighs out in relief but still avoids my gaze. "I'm sorry I didn't explain fully, I-" she starts again, but when she sees my look, she just nods. "Thank you," she settles with. "Really, you're doing us a huge favor."

"What, sparing everyone from Eric?"

She smirks. "I mean, you're not wrong, but that's not exactly what I had in mind."

"Then what were you thinking?" I ask, slightly confused.

She seems embarrassed by the question, but she doesn't hesitate answering, "Well, mainly just the fact that you're sparing everyone the stress of being down a person for the wedding party that we all stressed to find in the first place."

I hadn't thought of it that way, but it only makes me feel better about being there. Besides, after all the help Tris offered me while waiting for the plane when she didn't even know me, this feels like the least I can do. It's not about keeping score, but seeing a need and doing something about it.

Of course,in all honesty, the main reason I'm okay with doing this is because I'll get to see Tris again. I'm not sure what to think of the dynamic we have, because I've never had this with someone before. If it has a name, it's not in my vocabulary.

"Well, you're the one doing me a favor." I don't need to reiterate why, because she's already nodding in understanding.

Then she seems to remember something else and before I know it, she's groaning in frustration. "We have to do fittings, too," she says, almost guiltily. "I'm sorry if this is turning into too much, Tobias, I just keep remembering all of the shit that gets piled on for weddings, and last night I was too drunk to care and didn't even think this through!"

She looks so upset with herself, so guilty, it makes my stomach churn painfully. "Tris, it's okay. I promise, I'm okay with all of it. As long as I have some time to tend to the arrangements before Friday, then I'm happy to be present whenever you need me. Really, for anything. Don't the groomsmen help set up everything, too?"

Her mouth twists in discomfort, reluctant to answer. "Usually, but-"

"Then just say when and where, and I'll be there. And if you need more hands, I know a couple guys that'd be happy to help." Zeke and Uriah would help in a heartbeat, especially if I repay them with food and some beers afterward. Believe it or not, those two are suckers for weddings.

She seems reluctant to accept even the offer of me possibly helping if needed, let alone my friends, but she gives me a tight smile and nods. "I'm sure my mom would be very appreciative of any extra help we can get."

I offer the warmest smile that I can give, which probably isn't saying much. "Consider it done. And as I said, just let me know when and where."

Her eyes light up suddenly as she remembers, "I don't have your number." She pulls out her phone and creates a new contact for me. I even let her take my picture, so she could add it to my contact information. "It's not like I know many people named Tobias, but I like to see people's faces, even if they're just calling." Then she sends me a text, so that I can add her to my own contacts.

 **(Cue the music)**

I want to get her picture, too, but I don't want it to be a forced pose and expression, because it really does her no justice, so I wait for the right time, camera at the ready. I don't mention it, though, because then she'll be guarded.

So instead, I ask her what she's most excited for about her trip home. Her face lights up as her lips slowly curl slightly, but she hesitates to answer, like she's thinking of the right answer. Finally, she slowly says, "I'd have to say getting to spend time with people I care about."

"When was the last time you were here?"

"Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, because I flew in Wednesday night and left Friday morning, I only saw my family and a few other people. Well, and Eric."

"Eric's from Chicago?" I ask, frowning.

She shakes her head. "No, but we… were together at that point… and he came with me... But I did meet him here in Chicago." She bites her lip, uncomfortable, but I'm a little confused and she senses it. "Eric has a close cousin that had lived here and he lived with him for a few years. Eric hit a fallout with his family in California, which brought him here, to live with Scott. He got a job working for my dad's boss, so that's how I initially met him. I came home for Christmas, I think it was, and he was in the kitchen. Freaked me out a little because my parents weren't home, and he wasn't exactly that interested in meeting me, at first, so he was all hostile when I greeted him…"

Her voice trails off a little, frowning. She gives herself a minute before she shakes her head a bit so she can continue. "Since Eric only had Scott, and he'd always go home for holidays, my dad insisted Eric join us for holidays. Despite my feelings on who Eric was and the type of man he was, I couldn't argue with my dad's reasoning. He was too right. No one should be alone for the holidays."

Tris gets an incredibly sad expression on her face, like she suddenly feels guilty, but I'm distracted a little by what she said. I've never really celebrated holidays before. We never celebrated them at home, but I was never allowed to go anywhere else to celebrate them, either. Then when I moved out to Arizona for the Intel job, I had no one to celebrate with, so I never bothered. I've never looked at it as missing anything special, but the way Tris talks about why they had Eric around, I can't help but wonder if this is just another piece of me Marcus stole from me with the way he raised me.

"Not that he's perfect or anything," Tris continues, pulling me from my thoughts, "but my dad always taught us to remember others… Be mindful of them, put those in need first. He always said that selflessness leads to wholeness..." She trails off, it being her turn to get lost in thought.

If I had to guess, she's feeling guilty for treating Eric the way she did, now that she remembers what kind of circumstances he's had. There had to be a reason they ended up together to begin with, and I'm sure she's remembering them now. Sure, he may be an asshole and he definitely treated Tris terribly just from what I could see, but that doesn't mean he's got nothing to offer. I don't believe Tris or her father, based on how she talks about him, would have put up with that guy if he hadn't had something that was good.

As if reading my mind, Tris says, "I shouldn't feel guilty. I never was interested in any guy, honestly, but especially not Eric. Initially, my dad had told me Eric was moving to Arizona and could use a friend. I had agreed to that much, because as much as I didn't like him, I knew what it was like to be somewhere new and to be without anyone to lean on.

"Then, a few weeks after Eric had got settled and all, my dad said, 'What do you have to lose? Go on a few dates, see what happens. You never know.' I didn't really want to, but then I just felt guilty for not even giving Eric a chance… so I let him talk me into a date and then it just…"

Her eyes get wide as they snap to my face, looking at me in a horrified way; startled and upset. "I'm so sorry, I should not have aired all that out. Oh, God, I just got so caught up rambling! I can't believe I'm so-"

"Yeah, don't finish that sentence," I say with more of a bite than I really intend. The self deprecation rubs me wrong, but it's not as heavy to me as the fact that she just talked about how much her dad influenced her relationship. It raises red flags in my vision, ringing too many bells in my head, and my hands tremble just a little. I can't put my finger on the source of the feelings floating around in my chest, mainly because I haven't felt like this since the last time I visited my Chicago home…

 _I need to change the direction of this conversation, fast._

"First of all, you don't have to apologize. I don't mind honesty. Actually, I prefer it, even if... well, you know the saying." I give her a look, willing her to understand the words I can't say. 'The truth hurts.' Those words might as well be written on my back next to, 'This is for your own good,' with the number of times they were said to me as the belt lashed my skin. I get the same feeling on my tongue if I attempt to speak them, so I avoid it.

"Look, it's your life to live. From what I could see, that guy didn't treat you well, so you shouldn't have to put up with that just because he may not have anyone else to support him. That's not on you. Why should he be allowed to make it about you? That's bullshit."

She's staring at me with wide eyes, and it occurs to me that I might have given my opinion when it wasn't wanted or even needed, but I don't like the idea of her taking the blame. "I'd apologize, but that'd imply that I didn't mean what I said. Although, I realize now I was pretty out of line with all that, and I shouldn't have said it."

She doesn't say anything right away, but she shakes her head slowly, vaguely. My heart is pounding, worried that I really screwed up, and yet, she doesn't look angry...

To my relief, she finally says, "I don't want you to apologize. I don't even want you to feel bad for saying it." Her eyes dart away, like she can't think if she's looking at me. She's at war with herself, lost in her inner thoughts, and she doesn't want me to see the carnage and chaos that I'm certain is evident. Still, I get the sense one side is finally winning out.

When she looks at me again, it's back to that piercing look that she had the first time I saw her in that line. She frowns slightly as she says, "You were right. It wasn't anything I didn't know. I just never really… let myself think about it before, or really look at it for what it is. So, I guess I should thank you. It's… nice, not having to feel guilty about it."

"Well, if it helps, then you're welcome, but really, you're the one who stood up to him and made the choice. I just got to watch the fun."

She breaks out into a bright, unexpected smile, and I remember just in time my initial intention for this conversation, despite the dark road we went down for a bit. I quickly aim the camera on my phone at her face and snap the perfect picture of her natural, radiant smile. It takes her a second to realize what I did, and I've already successfully saved it as her contact picture before she can even cry out in protest.

"Tobias! Did you just take a picture of me?!" she whisper shouts, looking embarrassed.

"I did. I needed one for your contact," I laugh innocently, flashing the screen to her.

Looking at the picture, she frowns. "How… did you do that?"

It's my turn to frown as I look over the picture. I don't see anything odd about it. It's one-hundred percent her, happy. "I'm not sure what you mean."

She gives me a flat look, an eyebrow quirked up slightly. "You flatter me, but seriously. How did you make the picture look like this so quickly?"

Suddenly, it all clicks, and not just with this conversation. Like with the sketch of her I did back at Sky Harbor, she is surprised with the resulting image. Initially with the sketch, I thought she was just surprised I could get so many details down in such little time, though that seemed laughable to me due to my serious lack of talent, but now I'm thinking that has very little to do with it. Judging by the self deprecation she displayed in regard to the Eric situation, all the comments she fits in to knock herself down a few pegs, the way she gets a tight-lipped smile when she's holding herself back in some way, and even every time she flushed beautiful out of embarrassment for thinking she said the wrong thing, I can only imagine the type of self image she battles.

It sounds to me like her parents weren't the best at instilling confidence in their daughter, or at least her dad, anyway. They seem like the kind that would try and stifle all the contrasts to such a dynamic person out of fear of not understanding it all. The idea bothers me deeply, but this issue strikes too close to home for me to really think too much about it. Not now, anyway.

I don't get to say anything about it, though, because suddenly, we're at the California stop. We weren't paying any attention, and now we're here. This is Tris' stop.

My heart rate doubles, not ready to say goodbye, even though I know I'll see her again. Still, I don't want to leave the conversation where it is, but she doesn't have a lot of time to get her things and get off, so I just try and help her.

Once she's collected all her things, she gives me a sad smile. "Thank you, Tobias, for everything." She bites her lip before she says, "Well, I'll text you, and I'll see you soon."

"Okay," is all I get out before she's turning to go. She's about to step off when it becomes too much. I can't stand just letting her walk away right now. She needs to know...

"Tris, wait."

She stops, turning to me, her eyes questioning. "Yeah?"

"It wasn't the picture. It was you."

I can see the blush from here, but she doesn't get a chance to reply because she has to get off the train. She stands to the side as the doors close, staring up into the window at me. She offers me a shy smile, shaking her head playful. Then she mouths, "See you, Four."

I nod at her and mouth back, "See you, Six."

Her smile is the last thing I see as the train moves on, leaving her behind and bringing me closer to the last place I want to be: my childhood home.

At least I have the hope of better moments while being home, and when I leave that house at the end of this trip, I'll never have to go back again.

 **AN- Wowza, you all are AMAZING! I've cried tears of joy from the amazing reviews and messages, and the hundreds of views! Also, quick special shout-out to all the favs and follows! My heart just grew a whole size! (head nod to the Grinch). I'm sorry I'm such a dork, but you all have me so hyped every day! It means the world to me! Y'all are my people! (head nod Cristina Yang)**

 **I'm still working on Chapter Seven so I may or may not post a chapter later this week. I really don't ever want to go more than a week without updating, so I'm trying to have two chapters edited and ready to post at any given time, just in case life happens. I'm super close to finishing off Seven, though, and I already have a big scene of eight finished (hint hint- it's one I'm sure many of you are excited for!)**

 **Tensions are going to start growing, and the perfect lil bubble they've been bouncing around in isn't going to last much longer. There are some curve balls ahead, fourtris style. Also, I want to make this story better, so if you all have any things you want to see more of, or some type of situation you think the pair should face, please feel free to send me a message or leave a review. I'm open to incorporating some elements into the story, to bring it to life more. I appreciate all the feedback you give! Thank you all for the continued support!**

 **-Willow**


	6. Chapter 6

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters do not belong to me. Characters and some ideas are based off that series. Etc etc etc_

 _Rated M for language, adult situations, etc_

 **AN- I have a lot going on tomorrow, so I'm posting Chapter Six early! This is by far the longest chapter so far, so I hope you enjoy it!**

Chapter Six

The eight minute walk from the bus stop on North Avenue to my childhood home is a cold one, with the storm still threatening the city and residual snow clinging to every surface it can. The cloud cover snuffs out any chance of the sun's rays reaching us this morning, though whether or not it'll actually storm, it's hard to tell.

It's also my own version of a waking nightmare, willing myself to head back to that place of horrors I had to call home for sixteen years.

When I finally see the three story stone house ahead of me, it's hard not to recoil as much physically as I do mentally. I've never liked this house, with its cold, unwelcoming rooms, but the threat that always lingered within them is what made it unbearable. I'd much rather tear the thing to the ground, but seeing as that's not an option, selling it for an absurdly low price was the best second.

Let someone else deal with the demons...

Walking up to the black wrought iron gate was hard, taking some serious determination to walk just those few steps away from the sidewalk, but willing myself to open the gate is much harder. It's the mewling sound that comes from the flower box next to the front entry that finally gets me through, the promise of something good enough of a distraction. In the dimness of the morning, I just barely make out a set of bright orange eyes looking up at me.

"Hey, Pitch," I greet the cat, though his black fur makes him almost impossible to make out at all on this dark morning. He mewls again in greeting. "It's cold out. Why aren't you holed up somewhere?" He hisses in response, but not directed at me.

"Well, I guess if you want a place to crash, you can stay here, now. The old man isn't here to say no, anymore," I say softly as I scratch the top of his head. He presses happily into my hand, purring at the affection I'm sure he hasn't had since the last time I was here.

Pitch has been showing up around this house since I was fourteen years old. He would follow me if I walked anywhere, somehow always being around anytime I left. He belongs to a family down the street, but he never seems to be there. He wanders around, no one wanting him. Well, except me, but I was never allowed to have pets.

"Let's get out of the cold, bud," I say, finally letting myself enter.

It's dark inside, with no light shining through the windows or reflecting off the slick black tile floor. Still, I can tell the only thing that has changed since the last time I was here is that no one has been inside here in months, whereas up until my last visit, Marcus had half a dozen people that he staffed for daily work that were known to be around. Even the sign of life couldn't make this house feel like a home, but it helped. Now the air is dusty and still, cold and unwelcoming, but I enter anyway with Pitch shadowing me.

 _At least no Marcus._

Leaving my things at the foot of the stairs, I walk through every room in the main part of the house, keeping as close to the stone walls at all times out of habit, confirming that no one has been here in a long time. Only then do I decide to settle in. Instead of going to my childhood bedroom, which is on the top floor, I decide to stay in the guest suite. Growing up, I was never allowed to even go in there, but no one is here to stop me now, and there was absolutely no way I was sleeping in my old room. _Not going to happen. Not today._

This bedroom is probably the brightest of all of them in this house, with all its many windows and its white walls that reflect any and all light. It's a warm space, even if all the decor are various shades of brown and grey. I don't bother to unpack, because I know there's no rush, and it feels like another defiance, leaving my things thrown haphazardly on furniture or on the floor. It's taken me so long to find this side of myself, even if it's for no one else's benefit but my own. I need a little bit of this, especially being in this house again.

After falling onto the king size bed, exhaustion catching up with me again, I send a text to Zeke to call me two hours before Hana wants to meet up, so I have time to chat with him and get ready. It's just after six, now, so Zeke's likely to be asleep still.

I'm about to set my phone down on the nightstand when a text alert sounds. Thinking it's Zeke, I unlock my phone without looking, only to find it's from Tris.

 _Tris: Hope you made it home safely._

Smiling, I shoot her a text back.

 _Tobias: I did, thank you. I'm assuming you did as well?_

 _Tris: Nope, this is actually a ransom call._

 _Tobias: Dork._

 _Tris: Did you seriously just call me a dork?_

 _Tobias: Maybe… What are you gonna do about it?_

I have to bite my lip, because maybe that was a bit much, and she doesn't respond immediately. When my phone buzzes a few minutes later, I sigh in relief. At least she replied…

 _Tris: Hmmm… I think I'll store away the memory, in case I ever need an embarrassing story for posterity._

 _Tobias: Better take screenshots, otherwise it never happened._

 _Tris: Thanks for the reminder, Four! I'll make sure to save copies, too, just in case._

 _Tris: Well, I'm going to try and sneak in some z's. Hope you can, too._

 _Tobias: Thanks, you too._

I almost forget I'm back in this house that haunts my dreams, but even as I set my phone on the nightstand after checking that my sound is on, I stay blissfully unaffected, just long enough to slip into sleep.

My eardrums are assaulted by my cell ringing obnoxiously, waking me up sometime around eleven. It's Zeke and his voice comes out way too chipper for me after so little sleep. "Is your lazy ass up yet?" he asks joyfully.

"It is now," I groan, feeling the effects of the off night at the airport and flying. "So, what's the plan?"

"I'm doing good, thanks, what about you?" Zeke responds before laughing at my purposeful silence. "Sorry, man, just giving you a hard time." I don't say anything, my brain too groggy to keep up with him yet. "Mom insisted on our tradition."

I perk up. "The Original Pancake House?"

"Yeah, she says she won't let us give up the tradition, but she wants to bring the punk ass kids, too."

I laugh at Zeke's joke reference to his younger brother and our friend Shauna's younger sister, Lynn. They're both friends and have known me almost as long as Zeke and Shauna have. The four of them are all I have left that I consider family, along with Hana, so I don't exactly mind. Even if Uriah, Lynn, and I aren't close, I don't mind their presence. Sometimes, I'll admit, I even enjoy it.

"It's fine. The more the merrier. You got a girl you're bringing?" I ask.

"Yep," he says, but he doesn't elaborate.

"Don't give your mom a heart attack and make sure she's dressed decently," I advise, though I'm not exactly joking.

"Dude, it's January. You think she's going to be walking around in a bra and thong?"

"With you, anything could happen."

He barks out a laugh. "True. Well, rest assured, she'll be properly clothed. Don't want to make your _virgin eyes_ uncomfortable."

I roll my eyes. "I will call Hana and dis-invite you, Ezekiel."

"Oh, relax, you know I'm just surprised you've tortured yourself for this long," he says laughing.

"It's not torture, just disinterest," I deadpan.

 _That's... not exactly true anymore._

Heat creeps up my neck as an image of Tris laughing flashes across my mind, pulling my attention away briefly. The color of her eyes swallows me whole, surrounding me in the sound of her laughter and the warmth of her smile.

Zeke's laughter snaps me out of it. "I think you are _lying_ to yourself, man, but it's you that's gotta deal. You're the one losing out on valuable experience."

"Well noted," I say simply, though slightly cringing at the way he puts it. "Anyway, it's not like you haven't recounted past, uh…"

"Ventures," Zeke supplies for me.

"Uh, sure, _ventures_ … in great detail before," I finish awkwardly. I know more about Zeke's sex life that I ever cared to know. Sometimes, it's so bad, I can't even stand to be in the same room with Zeke or the girl he's seeing at the time.

He laughs again, clearly having a blast. "You think I'm going to let my best friend end up knowing _nothing_ , left completely unprepared when the magnificent day arrives when he bucks up and gets some? Ha! Not happening."

"Zeke," I growl in warning. "You know I'm not like that."

"I know, but you take it serious enough for the entire free world. Any more _Sirius_ and you'll end up in Azkaban," he gets out through a laugh, clearly proud of his terrible Harry Potter joke. "You know I don't aide in sustaining your abstinence or disinterest or whatever the fuck you call it. I believe in spreading the love," he says, really drawing out 'love' in a low, rumbling voice.

"Whatever. Subject change." I stretch out, popping my back in the process. "When are we meeting?"

"One," he says. "Shauna has an appointment that goes until noon and Uriah has to get his ass here from fucking Oak Woods Cemetery. He texted me ten minutes ago telling me he just got on the train for the trip down there! Idiot!"

I roll my eyes. "Well, it'll be his own fault if he misses out."

"More for us!" Zeke says happily.

"Yep. Well, I should get ready," I add as I notice the time. "I'l see ya later."

"Later," he replies before we hang up. I go and shower and get ready, taking my time since I have well over an hour before I even need to leave.

Once I'm dressed in my black and grey plaid button up shirt Hana sent me for Christmas and dark wash jeans, I throw on a black jacket and my black boots. The sun hasn't made its way out from behind the clouds, so it's bound to be cold out, still.

At a quarter to one, I let Pitch back outside, because he's been mewling restlessly. He still follows me out to the garage, but the moment he sees me headed for the car, he thinks better of it and heads down the driveway.

The car doesn't get used much, so it's covered in a thin layer of dust. It's the same one that used to be devoted to transporting me. Since I was in third grade or so, Marcus had someone that ensured I got where I needed to go, and kept up with my responsibilities and studies. Amar wasn't intended to be like a caregiver or a tutor, but he was more than just some chauffeur. He was like a big brother in the sense that he would guide me and help me out with things I needed. However, he was mostly stuck adhering to schedules. He was fired when I was sixteen because Marcus thought he had failed his duties, when I left home.

I haven't seen Amar since, and no one I know has heard from him, either. All I can hope is that he was able to find a job that didn't break him down like working for Marcus did.

Thankfully, the car still runs well, and I'm headed down State Street in no time. It takes only seven minutes to get to the public parking near the restaurant. I'm headed down for the street when I see Hana's black Chevy Tahoe going up, and I catch a glimpse of her and Zeke up front. I stop where I'm at so that we can all walk down together.

Hana, Zeke, Shauna, and Lynn catch up a few minutes later. Shauna throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly. "About damn time," she says as she shoves me away.

"Nice to see you, too, Shauna."

Hana pulls me in, giving me a tight, warm hug. "My other boy!" When she pulls away, she must see the collar of my shirt peeking out from beneath my jacket, because she claps her hands together. "Oh, good, it fits! I wasn't sure, but I know how you get when I ask you about sizes and all, so I didn't even bother asking."

I've never known how to accept gifts, because I get them so few and far between. It hardly ever feels like I deserve them, and I have no idea how to gift shop for other people in return, seeing as I rarely have ever been able to do it. Hana never expects anything, but I feel bad if I don't return the gesture.

"Yeah, it's perfect," I tell her. "Thank you again, Hana."

"Of course, Tobias," she beams at me happily. "And thank you for book! I'm excited to read it." She loves James Patterson novels, so I sent her the newest one for Christmas. It was the best I could do.

Zeke pulls me into a brief hug, shoving me away after, like Shauna did. We tend to keep things light, so we ditch the dramatics. We text all the time, and having just talking to him on the phone a couple of hours ago, it feels like no time has passed since I've seen him.

Finally, Lynn simply waves, which isn't surprising because she's even less personable than I am. "Nice to see you, Lynn," I extend to her, and she just answers with a, "You too. Now let's go, I'm starving."

We laugh, not exactly blaming her because there's something about this place... It used to be where Zeke and Shauna and I would go, starting our junior year after I had left Marcus' home. Any time someone had something important happening, we'd go the day before. It seemed to become something like a good luck ritual, because it always seemed to help us in our favor. Then it just became our place.

It's a bit busy inside, so we have to wait for some tables to clear up. It's not much of a problem, because Uriah and Zeke's girlfriend haven't made it yet, and no one really wants to start ordering until everyone is here.

The aromas are killing me, a mix of savory and sweet that makes my mouth water. It's only now, as my stomach growls, that I realize the last time I ate was at the bar with Tris.

"There he is," I hear Hana say happily as a thoroughly bundled up Uriah makes his way to the entrance. As he enters, his smile bright against his bronze skin, he says, "Welcome to the reunion!"

I roll my eyes but humor him with a smile before I give him a firm pat on the back. "We're not all here, yet," I tell him.

Then I see the light in his eyes. "Oh, great, I didn't miss it."

"Miss what?"

My eyes find Hana's, bright with happiness, and Shauna's who's avoiding mine. But it's Zeke, looking sheepish, that connects it.

"You idiot, it's about time!" I say before I turn to Shauna. "You hid it pretty well," I tell her, laughing. "How'd it happen?"

She's blushing, something very unlike her. Senior year, the dynamic between my two best friends shifted. They, of course, were oblivious to the other's true feelings. For too long, I was caught knowing about their feelings for each other but not being in a place to tell them about it. I wasn't going to play matchmaker, but the four years it took before Zeke even paid attention to her like that were almost too much for me. She had been dating someone at the time, so I'm not sure it made it better so much as easier to manage, now that I could speak openly about it.

"He stole my New Year's kiss," she says, shooting a joking glare at Zeke.

"Hey, I distinctly remember you telling me, 'It's about damn time,'" he says in a grumpy voice, but then he winks and shoots her a grin.

"I did, and for good reason. You kept me waiting for years, Ezekiel," she says coolly.

They are still at their banter when my phone buzzes from a text. I can't help but grin when I see it's from Tris, the breathtaking picture I got of her causing some serious emotions to swell in my chest.

 _Tris: Hey Mr. Gold Coast. You don't happen to live near 128 E Oak St, do you?_

 _Tobias: I do live close, but I'm not home._

The address she gave me is right down the street from where we're at at the moment, even closer than my house is, but for some reason, I don't mention it. Not yet, anyway.

She must be watching her phone because she replies in very little time at all.

 _Tris: Damn… So much for having GC connections! ;)_

I laugh, shaking my head slightly, about to reply when she beats me to it.

 _Tris: Thanks though!_

I frown, feeling like I'm missing something.

 _Tobias: Is everything alright?_

 _Tris: It'll be fine._

 _Tobias: As in it's not fine now?_

She doesn't reply right away this time. A table large enough to fit us all is ready, so we head back to get situated. We're just starting to look at menus when I get Tris' response.

 _Tris: It's no big deal._

I don't even hesitate with my response.

 _Tobias: Tris. What's going on?_

A waitress takes drink orders from us in the time it takes for Tris to respond again.

 _Tris: My car won't start and everyone else is busy with wedding stuff or are at work. I have a bunch of boxes I need to get home, otherwise I'd take the train…_

"What's with the shit-eating grin?" comes Lynn's voice, flatly, like she couldn't really care less but can't think of anything else to say.

I decide to answer indirectly. "Would you mind if someone else joined us?" I ask the group.

Hana beams happily at me. "Of course not, Tobias, this is for you, isn't it?" I shrug a bit, because though that may be so, Hana made all the arrangements and I don't want to change her plans.

 _Tobias: I'm actually at the Pancake House with some friends, over on Bellevue. Would you like to join us? I can give you a ride afterwards._

"So, who's this friend? If I remember correctly, you're not really one to make friends," Zeke deadpans with all too much truth. "It took me years," he grumbles, almost without humor.

"Actually, we were both stranded at Sky Harbor last night. We ended up at a bar and got to talking, killing time."

"That's cool. Must have made the wait a little less horrible," Shauna says, cringing at the idea of being stuck in an airport.

"Yeah," I say simply, not wanting to talk about it. I don't talk about my fear of heights, and I like to keep it that way.

My phone vibrates with Tris' response.

 _Tris: Pancakes for lunch? Uh, yeah I would! If you don't mind, of course…_

 _Tobias: Hey, I invited you, remember?_

 _Tris: You could have changed your mind._

 _Tobias: Not likely._

Zeke clears his throat, pulling my attention from my phone. Usually it's unlike me to be so focused on it, but my conversation with Tris has me preoccupied. "So, what's his name?"

"Huh?"

He smirks just a little before he asks, "The guy you met at the bar. What's his name?"

" _Her_ name is Tris."

The whole table seems to react to my statement, but it's Hana's look of pure joy that throws me.

"Don't look at me like that," I start, but I keep things light.

"Like what?" Shauna butts in, sounding innocent, which makes Zeke grin like an idiot. "Like you didn't just _casually_ mention being on a first name and phone number basis with a _girl_ you met at a bar _yesterday_? Like you haven't had this big ass grin on your face ever since you started texting her? Like your ears aren't bright red because I'm calling you out on it?" She smiles at me, too sweetly, and I just roll my eyes.

"It's not like that," I say, but they don't seem to buy it. "Seriously, it's not! She's having car troubles and she's right down the road. I did the _polite_ thing and invited her out of the cold while she waits. I'm not exactly the friendliest person, but I'm not soulless."

Thankfully, everyone laughs at that one. "Hey, at least we'll get a chance to thank her for making sure you ended up on the damn plane this time," Zeke says. It stirs up a little guilt, reminding me of all the times I've canceled last minute, feeding bullshit excuses because I couldn't stomach the truth.

My phone buzzes with Tris' most recent text and even though everyone is watching me, I glance down.

 _Tris: I'll be there in a few minutes. Thank you, Four._

That nickname makes me grin every damn time, which isn't unnoticed by anyone. "You really are lying to yourself, man," Zeke laughs, referencing our phone call earlier.

"Lying about what?" Lynn asks, suddenly very interested in the conversation.

"Lying about nothin'," I say flatly. Now is not a good time for this conversation to start.

This doesn't stop Zeke, though. "I think my man here is torturing himself. He keeps insisting he hasn't been interested in anyone enough to-"

"Zeke," I growl in warning.

"-get _involved_ ," he shoots me a look, asking if that's okay, and I nod begrudgingly, "but I told him he was lying to himself."

"He totally is," Lynn says simply. "We're hardly even friends and I know that."

"And judging by the look on his face when _Tris_ texts," Uriah starts, laughing.

"I am sitting right here," I groan.

"Leave him alone," Hana says, giving me a sympathetic look. "Boys, as much as I support your choices, I support Tobias' too. He's not the only man that doesn't chase women around like a street dog chasing a t-bone steak, and it's not a bad thing." Uriah and Zeke are holding back laughs, but Hana shakes her head, a hint of impatience on her face. "I bet you wouldn't have guessed that your father was one of those men." That knocks the look right off their faces, their jaws dropped in surprise. "Oh, yes. I was, in fact, your father's first girlfriend."

Zeke and Uriah exchange incredulous looks. "No way!" Uriah almost shouts.

"Why would I lie?" She grins at me before turning back to her boys. "I'll say, I was flattered when I found out."

"No way!" Uriah says again, though not quite as loud this time.

"Yes way," Hana laughs, clearly amused. "Your father didn't like to waste time. He was busy with his career and school, taking care of his mother and brother after his father died. Most girls never even caught his attention, and if they did, it was fleeting. The way he always told it, the day we met, it was like he suddenly had a flashlight in a dark room, and with the light, all he could see was me."

Everyone reacts, but most of all Shauna. She isn't exactly the type of girl that melts over words, but these ones get her a little. Probably because she knew Hana's husband. She has a big smile, reflecting the look on Hana's face. I never met her husband because he died years ago, before Zeke and I were friends, but from the stories I heard, I wouldn't doubt the truth in Hana's words. She's being honest, and for my benefit.

"So, sometimes, disinterest is exactly that," Hana finally says.

"Okay, fine, I'll give you that," Zeke starts, nodding at his mother before turning to me and adding, "and I can't exactly blame you for not wanting to just jump in on something you're not interested in... but you've really never been interested in someone? Like _ever_?" he asks, like the idea of me confirming it would make it too real.

"Now, I never said that," I appease, but the timing is… impeccable.

I hadn't planned on sitting in a chair that faced the door for any reason, but I'm grateful I did. Bright blue eyes and cheeks flushed from the cold walk are the first things I see when Tris enters the front door, even from across the room. She's wearing a white tunic with floral detailing in varying shades of grey, tight black jeans, black boots, and a long, bright red jacket. Her long blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of her head with a few stray tendrils framing her face. Tying it all together is a grey scarf looped around her neck.

And the best part of it all is when she sees me, she breaks into a giant smile that warms what little chill is left from the walk outside. Even though she looks tired from the lack of decent sleep, she is still radiant as ever.

"Oh, clearly," I hear Shauna laugh, but for once, I don't really care.

For the first time in a long time, I feel lucky, and no one says anything about the conversation we were just having. It could be because Hana shot them all a look without me noticing, but I don't care if that's the case. Everyone is very warm and welcoming as I introduce Tris to them.

"Everyone, this is Tris. Tris, this is-"

"We're his family," Zeke interrupts, grinning. "I'm Zeke, the best friend." He gets up, and since he's right beside her, he pulls her into a bear hug. She looks surprised by the gesture at first, but does return it with a smile once her mind seems to catch up. When they pull apart, he extends an arm to Shauna. "This is my girlfriend,Shauna. She's the _other_ best friend."

Shauna scoffs. "Please! I am _the_ best friend. We were friends before you two were."

"Being in English class together doesn't count," Zeke pouts playfully, and to my relief, Tris seems amused and comfortable already.

"Whatever," Shauna brushes off. "It's nice to meet you, Tris," she says with a smile as she turns back to Tris. "This is my younger sister, Lynn," she says, nodding next to her. Lynn is nice enough to offer a small smile, but not much more. "Yeah, she's even less personable than Tobias," Shauna explains as Lynn rolls her eyes.

Tris looks at me curiously, quirking an eyebrow at me in question. "What's this? You, not personable?" Then I see the humor in her expression, reprieving me of actually needing to explain. "I was certain you were a party animal, Four."

 _Every time!_ I'm grinning like an idiot. That nickname just elicits the reaction, I have no idea why.

"Four?" Uriah asks, lost, his expression mirrored by everyone else at the table.

Tris breaks out in a proud smile. "I'm Seven," she says mischievously.

"Oh, no, you're _Six_ ," I counter, playfully narrowing my eyes at her. "You stole that other question."

"Hey, I was still right, so it counts," she says stubbornly, but not without humor.

Someone clears their throat and I see the expressions on everyone's faces, ranging from indifference to confusion to sheer joy. Hana is practically glowing with the smile she's wearing, and the intensity of it makes both Tris and I blush when we notice.

"Uh," Tris stammers at first, struggling to find words. "We played a game last night, and I won. It was a questions game. I got seven-"

I clear my throat and grunt out, "Six," which makes Tris bite that damn lip of hers as she tries to suppress a grin.

"-questions right, while he only got four right. So it just kind of became a nickname," she finishes, her voice trailing off.

Zeke and Shauna are smiling too much, but I don't mention it, hoping Tris doesn't notice and feel uncomfortable by it. Thankfully, Zeke is busying himself by getting Tris a chair and Uriah is on my side for once. "That sounds about like the most fun thing you _could_ do while stranded at an airport."

I see Zeke shoot Shauna a look and she chokes back a laugh. Hana catches it of course. "Ezekiel!" She has her classic fierce look, which now reminds me a bit of that piercing expression Tris gets.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Zeke says seriously, bowing his head as he sits back down. Tris sits at the end of the table, now, to my left and to Zeke's right.

"On that note," Hana says, still looking sternly at Zeke, "I am Hana. I am _Ezekiel_ and Uriah's mother. Tobias is my honorary boy," she says, smiling brightly at me.

"And I'm Uriah," he introduces himself from beside his mom, offering his most charming smile.

"It's really nice to meet you all," Tris says politely, though genuinely. "I hope I'm not intruding or anything," she adds, her shoulders tensing a bit.

"Oh, honey, of course not," Hana tells her, giving her a serious look.

"Yeah," Zeke chimes in before he points at me, though he keeps his eyes on Tris. "Knowing this asshole, we'd probably wouldn't have ever got to meet you otherwise, so I'm glad we got the chance."

Tris gives me another look, like she's trying to tease me. Somehow, I just know she's remembering our earlier conversations and the offer I brought up. "Hey, I was going to ask them," I say defensively, which makes her smirk. "Zeke, Uriah, would you guys be willing to be put to work? Pizza and beer sometime after, of course,"

"I'm in but what's it for?" Uriah asks.

It's Tris who answers. "My older brother is getting married. I don't have a lot of family and the bride's family is pretty small, as well, so we're a bit short on hands. Tobias offered to help."

Zeke and Shauna are staring at me like they are just now meeting me. I'm a little relieved Tris didn't yet mention I agreed to being a groomsman, and to escorting Tris down the aisle in the place of her ex-boyfriend. Helping people out isn't the odd part so much as me offering it, and under these circumstances. People ask for help all the time and I don't hesitate, but going out of my way for a complete stranger? Offering to get close to people? Yeah, not so much my usual move.

"If you need any other help, I'm there, too," Shauna offers with a smile. "I'm pretty strong, even for a girl," she says pointedly, shooting a look at Zeke. He'd never counter it, because once they were sparring and he had teased her about it. She ended up totally kicking his ass. It was one of the highlights of my youth, I have to say.

Tris returns Shauna's smile, clearly touched. "My mother is going to cry tears of joy. That would mean so much to us, thank you."

"Of course," Zeke says happily. "Weddings are fun, anyway. Why miss out on all the hype?"

Uriah laughs and says, "Zeke, you have a girlfriend now, you can't have fun anymore. Now, me, on the other hand..."

Shauna smirks a little, interrupting Uriah's thoughts. "Oh, he can have fun, but only with me."

"I wasn't meaning that kind of fun, anyway, you idiot," Zeke shoots back at his brother, but he can't hide the grin that's taken over his face that showed up in response to Shauna's comment. "I mean, not that that wasn't a perk in the past…" His voice trails off and he looks deep in thought as he watches his mother tense at the conversation. Hana is no prude, but I think she gets a little flustered with how open her sons are about these subjects, especially around new company.

Tris, however, is laughing, thank God, because if this made her uncomfortable, I think I'd just assume go walk off into the lake and never return. Her laughter must ease Hana as well, because she doesn't seem so tense when Tris starts to speak again.

"The bride has a lot of bridesmaids," she says lightly, in a sing-song voice that's light and clear. She really has a nice voice, from the little snippets I've heard. I hope I can hear her really sing sometime… "Oh, and I know for a fact most of them are single, if you really want to go down that road." The way she says it implies that she knows something about these women, or at least a few of them, that will change the dynamic of what Uriah is expecting.

"Isn't that frowned upon?" Lynn asks, though I don't think she actually cares.

Tris shrugs. "Maybe, but I can guarantee you there are some who won't care either way."

"Okay, now you're just teasing," Uriah groans, though I can tell he is exaggerating a little.

"I guess you'll just have to find out," Tris says lightly, and judging by the expression she wears, she purposefully teased this time.

"I can see how you got Tobias out of his shell so quickly," I hear Hana say from beside me.

Tris looks confused and asks, "What do you mean?"

The table gets quiet for a moment, somewhat tense, but me most of all. I know that we always joke about my rough nature, as we do Lynn, just like we joke about Zeke and Uriah's "share the love" attitudes, and Shauna's "I'll die before I ever ask for help" stubbornness. Though we keep it light, they are based in truth that is fundamental to who we are as people. Tris hasn't seen that side to me, not really. Thinking in hindsight, my least personable moments with her have been like my usual good moments. What I have struck up with her is unheard of.

So Hana bringing it up without the humor brings up the reality Tris has not seen of me. Yeah, I've talked to her about it, but never before has she seen the side of me most people see. Throw in the fact that Hana complimented her and it seems Tris has no idea what to think.

"Tris," Zeke starts, with half a smile, "I'm not sure who you met last night, but the Tobias we know is almost always reserved, quiet, intense… He works hard, has tunnel vision when it comes to taking care of things that need to be done. Good guy, of course, but not the type of person that even sits next to a stranger at a bar, let alone ends up playing a drinking game."

I shoot Zeke a look, begging him not to drag this out because I don't want Tris thinking I'm pretending to be someone I'm not. While I'm different around her, it's not that it's not me. I'm just not guarded when around her like I am around everyone else.

"Don't get me wrong, I know that guy exists. Usually it takes a bit of alcohol to coax him out, though."

"So that's the secret," Tris interrupts. She looks at me, and my heart misses a beat. She has a soft smile on her lips from her little joke, but I know the only reason she said it was for my benefit. Her eyes, on the other hand, reflect what I can only peg as sadness. I wish I could ask her what she's thinking, but now is not the time.

"Depends on what kind. If it was Fireball or some Don Julio, then absolutely," Shauna says.

Tris breaks out into a big, genuine grin and says, "I guess it was just my lucky day, then. Thank goodness for the '42."

Everyone laughs, even Lynn, Zeke being the loudest. "Give him Fireball next time, though. You'll _really_ be in for a treat then."

My eyes close as I groan in embarrassment. Zeke and Uriah always joke I become an official Pedrad when I drink Fireball. I don't ever intentionally flirt, but apparently with the help of that damn alcohol, I do.

"Oooo, thanks!" Tris says happily, and when I finally open my eyes to look at her, she gives me a wink. "Don't worry, I'll be nice and make sure it's _not_ at the wedding. My parents might not be too happy with me if I did."

"Thank you," I sigh out, dropping my head in my hands for a second. To my utter relief, the waitress comes to take orders. When I look back at Tris, it's to find she's already looking at me. I don't want to make a big deal of it, so I just ask, "Do you know what you'd like?"

She nods. "I almost always get the Dutch Garden when I come here."

"I've heard those are good. I've never tried it, though. We always get the apple pancake," I say.

Tris grins. "Those are pretty fantastic."

Once everyone places their orders, Hana turns towards Tris. "So, you live in Arizona now?" Tris nods. "But you're here for a wedding, so does that mean you're from Chicago originally?"

Tris nods again, smiling, seemingly unphased by the idea of Hana knowing this about her. Did she expect that I talked about her to them? "Born and raised here. I moved to Phoenix after high school because I got a full ride scholarship to the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication."

"Full ride? Shit, you must be smart," Zeke says, eyes wide with awe.

"Yes, and that's one of the top journalism schools in the country," Hana says, clearly impressed.

Tris nods slightly, her cheeks flushing deeply. "I was a little surprised, especially when the local schools only offered partial scholarships. I'd have had to take out loans for sure if I stayed local. I didn't want to do that, and I always wanted to travel, anyway. The idea of going somewhere so different, with no one I knew, seemed daunting but… I just, I couldn't be someone afraid to leave home just because it'd be different. With fear out of the equation, it was easy to see I had an amazing opportunity. So, I took it and I went."

"So how long until you graduate?" Hana asks.

Tris shrugs. "I'm on my third year, but I'm thinking of getting a second degree, and branching out into some other subjects. I'd really love to get into some law courses, as well as get some extra psychology, sociology, and criminology courses. I've even pondered checking out social work, just to get more knowledge about it. I'm not too sure, yet, other than that. I just know I feel like there's so much more for me to know, first."

"Like I said, _you must be smart_ ," Zeke says.

"Yeah, seriously," Shauna agrees.

She blushes again. "Not really, I-"

"Uh, you got a _full ride_. You are smart," Uriah says seriously.

She bites her lip, unwilling to accept it. "My brother is the smart one," she insists. "He graduated at fifteen years old, already has one undergraduate degree and three associates degrees. Now he's working towards a master's, all on full ride scholarships. He's still going to school as all this wedding stuff goes on. They're having to wait to go on their honeymoon when he has spring break," she says, laughing.

Everyone is laughing except me, too caught up on what she said. She's implying she's not smart just because she's not as smart as her brother. This strikes me oddly and I can't help but wonder whether Tris is the one who calls her brother the smart one or whether that came from her parents.

I don't know why I get so caught by it. I don't know why her image of herself matters so much to me. I don't know why I even noticed this new wave of self deprivation. I don't know why it's so important to me that she knows how amazing she is. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

Without thinking, I say, "Tris, you don't have to downgrade your accomplishments because someone may be better than you at something. Is your brother any less smart for not graduating high school at ten years old like Tanishq Abraham? No. So why should anyone consider you any less either?"

The table has gotten very quiet, and through that whole rant, I had forgotten anyone but she and I were there. By the way she's looking at me, she seems to have forgotten too. No one else seems to matter in the moment as I stare into her eyes, watching emotions flicker across them like candlelight. Thankfully, no one says anything to make it weird, but then again, no one has anything else to say, either.

Finally, it's Hana who breaks the silence. "Well, as blunt as that was, he does have a point, my dear. You should be proud of what you have accomplished. I'm sure by the end of your schooling, you'll get to pick any place you want to work, because if they don't have a job for you, then they'll make one."

"Hell yeah!" Zeke says cheerfully. "Who wouldn't?"

Tris smiles shyly at them before her eyes settle on mine. "Thank you," is all she says. It's all she needs to say.

The waitress comes out with the food and we all start to dig in, making small talk as we do.

"So, obviously you're into writing, but what else do you do? Do you have a job?" Uriah asks through a mouthful of omelette.

"Hmm," she hums as she chews, thinking. "I work at Planet Fitness. They have really flexible hours, pay well, and it's a really great environment. Plus free gym membership," she says, ending with a light laugh. "Other than that, sometimes I go hiking, when it's not a hundred degrees-"

"Which is about half of the time," I slip in, which makes her bust out laughing.

"True," she acknowledges, though she shakes her head a bit at me. "Otherwise, I do a lot of volunteer work. I like to work with people and know about the issues going on in the community, see where people need help. Sometimes I'm at animal shelters, other times soup kitchens. One time I helped build a house. Another time, I helped run a daycare for single parents trying to go get jobs. It's always different, but I kind of like it that way."

"Okay, so what's the catch?" asks Lynn out of nowhere, a hint of amusement in her expression. "You sound like Mary fucking Poppins right now."

"Lynn," Shauna groans, rolling her eyes at Lynn's word choice in front of Hana.

"Hana knows me, Shauna, relax."

"Doesn't mean I like hearing it," Hana says flatly, giving Lynn a look, but she merely shrugs.

"Still, point is, what are your flaws? You're too perfect right now and it's gross."

Tris laughs, thankfully, but she's looking at Lynn like she's crazy. "I am so flawed, I'm surprised I have friends," she says while laughing, though it's not funny. Not to me.

"Bullshit," Lynn shoots back. "Beautiful genius philanthropist doesn't sound pretty idealistic to you?"

Tris shakes her head incredulously. "I'm not- it's not- I-" She scrunches up her face, trying to think. "My mother volunteers almost religiously, and I went with her any chance I could. I can't say I don't enjoy it. I find it rewarding and it drives me forward with my education, but I'd probably not be doing this if it wasn't already ingrained in me to do so."

There it is again. I've noticed the pattern, called her out on it, even. This self deprecation seems to be as ingrained in her as she claims her volunteering is, and again I'm left to question what on earth has been said to her to make her see herself this way.

I'm not the only one who notices, either. "There you go again," Lynn says, "brushing off compliments and shit."

"Lynn," Shauna says in warning. As much as it may be true, calling her out on it all the time is only going to make her feel bad about it. As it is, I shouldn't have said anything in the first place.

"No, it's okay, she's not wrong." Tris says, looking to me and adding softly, "I did warn you."

Even though this is far from funny, I grin, remembering her little joke she played at the bar. That was one of the truths she told. "That you did."

It's quiet for a minute while everyone eats before Zeke asks what type of music she likes. I've not ventured out with music before, so I don't recognize most of the people or groups she names, but Zeke and Shauna are nodding along, seemingly approving of her taste in music. She'll have to show me someday…

 _Someday?_

When Zeke asks about concerts she's been to, she blushes bright red.

"Oh, boy, this is gonna be good," Zeke says, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of her answer. "Who'd you see?"

"I've only been to one, about eight years ago and uh, it was just supposed to be me and my best friend, Christina, but last minute my parents decided one of them should go. So my mom came with us and… well, it just…"

"Who'd you see?!" Zeke asks again, excitedly but not patiently.

"Papa Roach."

Hana and I are the only two not howling with laughter because we're the only two who don't know who that is, at least not by name. As if seeing my look of confusion, he supplies, "Last Resort."

 _Oh shit_. Now I'm laughing too, because I can just imagine how that must have ended up going.

The conversation on concerts carries on while everyone finishes eating, but even afterwards, we continue chatting. It's only when I get a call from Mr. Vega, telling me to stop by his house in an hour that things start to wrap up. I promise Hana I'll see her again before I have to leave, and that I'll get in touch with Zeke, Shauna, and Uriah about the wedding when we know more.

As we're all walking to the parking garage, I fall back behind everyone to walk beside Tris. "I hate to ask, but do you have some spare time? Or do you need to get straight home?"

Tris smiles brightly at me. "I just have to work on putting things together and making stuff for decorations," she says. "I have all week, though, so I definitely have some spare time today. What's up?"

"I have to sign off on some paperwork and have a quick conversation with someone helping me with all the arrangements this Friday. He lives in East Garfield Park and-"

"Tobias, if it's too much trouble, I can call someone else," Tris starts but I don't let her finish.

"I don't mind helping, I just wondered if maybe you wouldn't mind coming with me. Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor. I don't like the guy at all and having a reason to get the hell out of there would be wonderful," I end rather sheepishly.

"Oh," she says before smiling again. "Then yeah. Do we have time to just grab the boxes from my car?"

"Yeah, that'll be fine," I say, nudging her with my elbow, trying to coax out a smile, and thankfully it works.

We fall in a comfortable silence as we walk. Once we make it to the car, we say goodbye to the Pedrads, Shauna, and Lynn. Hana invites Tris to come along with me anytime she wants, which makes her blush but she seemed grateful for the offer.

The moment we're in the car, the air seems to warm up, buzzing with an energy that makes it impossible to keep my heart rate steady. I swear, it's beating with such a force, Tris has got to be able to hear it drumming in my chest. I've tried pushing aside the feelings I noticed last night at the airport, thinking they were because of the stress of the impending flight and aided by the copious amount of alcohol, but now they're impossible to deflect, let alone ignore. The excuses are all gone, and continuing to pretend would be futile. There is no other reason; it's _her_.

Everything about her is striking, from her brilliant smile and ambitious drive, to her selfless nature and fierce moments of bravery and confidence. I find her endlessly fascinating, and our dynamic feels familiar, almost as if it's a fundamental part of me. The idea seems impossible, having only known her for such a short amount of time, but there's no other way to explain it.

It isn't until we're pulling up to her car that something hits me: this is the first time we've ever truly been alone. We've been in public and surrounded by people in every setting until now, and in a few minutes, we'll be alone for a half hour on the way to Mr. Vega's house. The prospect is both exciting and terrifying.

I'm not sure how much longer I can kid myself. Zeke is right: at this point, I am flat out lying to myself. I can try to fool everyone else in pretending that I'm indifferent and content with the way things have been, but I know myself too well. Usually, when people get closer to me, I push them away, keep as much distance as I can manage and blow the joint the first chance I get. And yet, the closer Tris gets, the more I think about her in ways I almost never think about girls.

And here I am now, having to tell myself to stop thinking about her. No matter what I feel, I know this is a road I can't go down. For one, we hardly know each other. It's not even been a full twenty-four hours, yet! Then there's the fact that we're each in town only for a week or so, and we have separate lives in Arizona. There's no way it could work, could it? Besides, how can I even honestly feel like this after so little time? How can my guard be so easily appeased? How is it possible to feel like I trust someone that's practically a stranger?

Maybe that's part of why I feel the way I do. There's just something about her that I know, even if I don't know what that is. Whatever it may be, I can't seem to let it go.

 _Maybe I don't have to…_

I guess only time will tell.

 **AN: I still am in shock over this story and all the positive reviews it has received. It's incredible and means the word to me. I love writing, but sharing it with others has become such a gift. Thank you all so so so much.**

 **As far as progress goes, I have about 44,000 words written so far. Chapter Eight is** ** _almost_** **done being written (6,7, and 8 are so long, guys, it's great but it has been taking me forever to finish them ahhhhh) and I already have several scenes for future chapters mapped out and even little snippets written out. I've got a bunch of plans already in place for Chapters 9 and 10, and I'll have some serious time this week to really sit down and focus on bringing them to life. My life has been (and will still be) pretty hectic over the next four-six weeks, but I will make sure to update at least once a week.**

 **Chapter Seven is going to be different than other chapters have been as far as reality kinda starts to kick in, and the super relaxed vibe they've adopted starts changing over to something a little more fourtris. [Not that they can't be relaxed but that's hardly the pair we know and love, am I right?] And chapter eight. Ohhhhhh, chapter eight. I'm excited for it and hopefully you all are too. Good things to come, I hope! And I want to thank you all again for sticking with this story, sticking with me, and supporting this! I appreciate all the reviews, follows, faves, messages.**

 **-Willow**


	7. Chapter 7

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters do not belong to me. Characters and some ideas are based off that series. Also, the views, beliefs, etc are not a reflection of my own thoughts, beliefs, and views._

 _Rated M for language, adult situations, etc._

Chapter Seven

Once I help load the four boxes from Tris' car into mine, we climb back in and start heading for Mr. Vega's house. "Do you want to find some music?" I ask Tris as I nod towards the stereo since it's too quiet for me at the moment. After all the feelings I've been starting to recognize and acknowledge, I'm growing increasingly nervous being alone with her. It's thrilling and yet absolutely terrifying.

I see her smile from my peripheral. "Any preference?" she asks me.

"Whatever is your favorite right now. There's an aux cord if you want, too."

She plugs the chord in, a smirk gracing her face as she begins browsing her music. "For the record, you gave me free reign," she says playfully.

I look at her long enough to flash her a grin. "Noted."

She hits play and the moment the music starts, I can see her moving along to it, even if subtly at first. It's only enough to be in sync with the beat, but as the lyrics start, she starts moving more distinctly, like bobbing her head or mouthing a phrase now and then.

 _ **(Prey - The Neighbourhood)**_

 _As long as you notice  
I'm hoping that you'll keep your heart open  
I'll keep mine open too  
If you don't ask, I won't tell  
Just know that, just know that  
It all hurts, it all hurts just the same_

She seems comfortable, now, slowly starting to sing along with the lyrics more and more, though still too soft for me to hear over the speakers.

 _Something is wrong, I can't explain  
Everything changed when the birds came  
You'll never know what they might do if they catch you too early  
We need to fly ourselves before someone else tells us how  
Something is off, I feel like prey, I feel like praying_

 _As long as you notice  
I'm hoping that you'll keep your heart open  
I'll keep mine open too_

By now, she's singing along completely, her piercing voice cutting through the music despite how soft she sings.

 _So, so, I'll probably take you aside  
And tell you what's on my mind  
But you, you'll just keep it inside  
Probably tell me that you're alright_

"Don't hate me for asking, but which group is this?"

When I glance over at Tris, she has a horrified look on her face, but her eyes sparkle in an amused sort of way. "Mr. Gold Coast, I am disappointed! This is _The Neighbourhood_."

My face twists, embarrassed a little. "I know the name, I just can't place them..."

Her expression worsens but thankfully her eyes stay bright. "Four! You're hurting my soul," she groans, clutching at her chest dramatically, which somehow brings out a small grin from me.

She searches in her phone and changes the song to something else. **(Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood)** It has an opening backtrack that initially makes me think of really bad karaoke beats you hear in crappy bars on a weeknight, but I will myself to give it a chance. Then the lyrics start in, and I vaguely start to recognize the song.

I've never listened to the lyrics before, and now happens to be the worst time to start, because not even halfway through the first verse, the words start striking me in an unfamiliar way, leaving my heart skipping erratically in my chest, my palms sweaty, and my consciousness all too sensitive the Tris' presence.

 _Use the sleeves of my sweater  
Let's have an adventure  
Head in the clouds but my gravity's centered  
Touch my neck and I'll touch yours  
You in those little high waisted shorts, oh_

She's been singing along the whole time, but as she gets to the next part of the song, she starts moving more deliberately, singing animatedly along with it, even adding in little hand gestures. It's as if she's forgotten I'm here, observing her as I drive.

 _She knows what I think about  
And what I think about  
One love, two mouths  
One love, one house  
No shirt, no blouse  
Just us, you find out  
Nothing that wouldn't wanna tell you about no_

 _'Cause it's too cold  
For you here and now  
So let me hold  
Both your hands in the holes of my sweater_

I'm starting to detect the blush creeping over her skin, first appearing like roses blooming on her cheeks, then radiating elsewhere. My guess is she's listening to the words too, but that leaves me to wonder _why_ they're affecting her like they are.

 _And if I may just take your breath away  
I don't mind if there's not much to say  
Sometimes the silence guides a mind  
To move to a place so far away  
The goosebumps start to raise  
The minute that my left hand meets your waist  
And then I watch your face  
Put my finger on your tongue  
'Cause you love the taste, yeah  
These hearts adore  
Everyone the other beats hardest for  
Inside this place is warm  
Outside it starts to pour_

By the time the song reaches the musical interlude after another go at the chorus, both of our faces are bright red, bodies tense as the words linger in the same way her touch seems to. With the absence of words to focus on, my mind drifts, conjuring visions of Tris…

…Tris with her fingers intertwined with mine, looking up at me through her lashes and a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Tris, beaming up at me brightly in a light shirt and high waisted shorts, resting her hands on my chest. Tris, with her bottom lip between _my_ teeth, not hers, a soft laugh escaping due to the gesture. Tris, sighing as my hand touches her waist before we kiss...

 _Knock it off, Tobias!_

Thankfully, my thoughts are interrupted when the song concludes, but Tris quickly switches the song over to something new. I don't listen to the lyrics this time because she asks, "So who's your favorite group?"

It's a tame question, but my body goes rigid and cold. My eyes strain against my wandering thoughts, forcing myself to stay focused on the road ahead of me. If this were any other person, I'd supply my usual answer of, "I don't really have a favorite." This is Tris, though, and I have been inexplicably committed to a level of honesty I've never been compelled to sustain before. From the moment we first spoke, my instinct has been to be honest with her, rather than to hide; open rather than secretive.

Never has the truth come so weighted in our conversation before. Most of the time, we've either been vague in nature, kept it light enough to joke about, or changed the subject before it got too out of control, so the truth didn't feel as threatening as it always has been with other people. Now, as the truth of my life stares me in the face, and as the impact of my truth weighs heavily in my chest, I understand the price my honesty could have. There's a reason I usually avoid it like the plague.

The truth is, I hardly even knew music until I was sixteen years old. Marcus never played it in the house, and he forbade Amar of playing it in the car when I was in it. I was limited to anything I heard at school, or in passing.

There was one night, though, that somehow seemed to be more horrible than the others, and it resulted in me bolting aimlessly down the streets of Chicago. I didn't stop until my lungs demanded it, and I ended up collapsed in a heap outside some bar more than ten miles from home, passed out for God knows how long. When I came to, all I could hear was music.

A middle-aged man was huddled against the cold about thirty feet away, and I watched him sway and play along with the song, even though he held no instrument. His face was dirty, but it lit up as he beamed happily. Towards the end of the song, he laughed, saying, "Thank you, Tab Benoit." In the weeks that followed, I came to find out Tab Benoit was a blues musician, and his album _Whiskey Store_ became the first album I ever owned. Since then, the blues has held a special place in my life.

However, like drawing, music comes from a place of darkness. The music I really like speaks to me because it mirrors my thoughts or experiences, painting visions that I've been trying to purge for years. The words echo those that haunt my mind, and I don't ever know how to voice that.

There's a large part of me leery of exposing this side of myself, as I've always been, but there's a small part of me urging me to give Tris a chance. As much as she is a stranger in the span of time we've known each other, she already knows me more than most people do. She didn't even have to ask or pry, she just seemed to _know_. She has to be worth trusting, but I won't know if I never give her a chance.

"Favorite blues or other?" I ask, in case I can find an out.

"Favorite group for lyrics," she says, and as I pry my eyes away from the road for a moment to glance at her, I catch her expression, reminiscent of storm clouds; dark, rumbling, unpredictable.

"Uh, well… I guess you could, uh, you could say Linkin Park."

There's suddenly a tension in the air that's almost tangible, pressing into my chest and against my skull. The feeling reminds of getting bad news, where your stomach drops and the world starts to spin, leaving you unable to breathe. Every chance I get, I look at Tris in the seconds that follow my response, not caring what that communicates. She's lost in thought, looking out at the road ahead of us absently. Her expression is troubled, causing my stomach to churn uncomfortably. Somehow, I get the feeling she's reading into this as much as I worried she might, but I'm not sure how much she riddles out, because again, she doesn't say anything about it. Instead, she asks, "What's your favorite album?"

"Meteora," I say, somewhat cringing as I do. If she's familiar with that album, I may be in for it for sure this time.

"That's a good one," she says softly, and I can feel her eyes on me, now, boring holes into the side of my head as she tries to get inside it. Though once again, if she has any thoughts about it, she doesn't voice them.

It's because what she wants to know feels worse. "What about the album do you like so much, compared to their other albums?" she asks, but I can tell by her voice that she's searching for information this time, I know it. Even still, the idea of lying seems futile.

"The lyrics." It's all I can say right now, my heart pounding in my ears, making my hands shake as I clutch the wheel.

Thank God she just nods, acknowledging. "There's definitely some good ones." All I have left in me is a nod of agreement.

The silence is tense this time, though not any less charged with energy. Only now it's the kind that has my heart skittish, desperately walking on eggshells. It's not unusual for me to be this way with people, but Tris has never known me to be this way. _God, what does she think of me now?_

After a few minutes, Tris speaks again with a tentative voice. "What's your favorite blues artist?"

Relief; that's all I can feel. "Tab Benoit." To this day, I can't kick that night in front of that bar to save my life. That music changed everything for me.

She quirks her eyebrows. "Can't say I'm familiar."

"I'll show you sometime," I say without thinking. _Here we go…_

My ears are just starting to engulf when she says, to my utter surprise, "I'd like that."

I must be hallucinating because this can't be real. And if it is, it is something beyond all human comprehension.

She doesn't give me much time to think about it before she asks, "What's your favorite food?"

"Is this an interrogation?" I ask, only half kidding.

Even with my eyes on the road, I recognize the smirk sneaking up on her face. "This is what most people consider small talk. I might just be bad at it."

"You're _terrible_ at it." I'm rewarded with her light, melodic laughter. It's genuine and slowly starting to become one of my favorite sounds. _I'll do whatever it takes to hear it again._ "It's okay, though, so am I. I mean, at least I don't _think_ conversations were supposed to be one-sided."

I chance a glance at her and catch her biting _that lip!_ Her cheeks are bright and rosy, her eyes alive with amusement. She really is a vision…

"Fine, let's try again. We can both ask questions, or we can sit in awkward silence while I torture you with my music. Choose your poison."

I allow us to sit in silence for a minute as I listen to a song vaguely, though not enough to understand what it's saying. Then I ask her, "Why is The Neighbourhood your favorite right now?"

"The lyrics," she deadpans, much like me, but much to my delight, she does grace me with more of an answer than that. Well, after she winks at me first. _Don't read too much into that, Tobias_. "I went through a little bit of a rebellious phase," she admits. "My dad heard one of the songs and about lost it. He said that, 'as a respectable, emerging woman,' I had no business listening to music 'like that.' There was something about the words, though. Some of those songs just struck a chord with me. It's hard to explain without being vague..."

She trails off, and I feel, for a strange, brief moment, like I know her. Not in a we've-been-talking-for-hours way, but on a deeper level, somehow, her eyes and her mouth searching for a way to make me understand without hashing out the baggage. She didn't press me, so I don't press her.

"It's okay. I think I know what you mean."

She grins before she asks, "What song strikes you?" I had started to relax a little, but I tense up immediately. _Come on, Tobias. Have a little faith…_ She sees this discomfort and responds by adding, "Mine would have to be 'Noise.'"

"'Crawling.'" Words are failing me, but at least I'm getting something out. That has to be enough, right?

"That's a good one," she says softly, an edge of heaviness evident.

"Yeah," I acknowledge vaguely. This is overwhelming my senses, becoming way too much, so I try and change the subject. I think back to the conversation we shared with the Pedrads, Shauna, and Lynn, trying to grasp at straws. "So, you live in Phoenix, now?"

The tension lessens enough that I can breathe as she replies, "Yeah. Practically right down the street from the Cronkite campus, and only a few miles away from my work. The area isn't the best, but it's a house that I share with two roommates, so I only have to pay $300 a month, including utilities and all."

"I bet with the convenience of location, it must be a great payoff. But, roommates? You lost the appeal there."

"Hey, I'll tolerate two roommates over paying a grand or more a month to have a place of my own. That's extra cash that can be used on more practical things, or at least saved for them."

"Better you than me," I laugh, giving her a look. "What are they like?"

"They're not too bad. We don't all interact much, between work and school, but we're on good enough terms. Every now and then, the three of us stay in. They're two of the only people I'm close to in Arizona." She laughs suddenly. "Them and my tattoo artist."

My draw drops jokingly, though I am still a bit surprised. "You have tattoos?" She smiles and nods happily. " Wow. You're full of fun surprises."

She's smirking. "What about you?"

I nod, but I don't elaborate, though I do say, "Believe it or not, I'm still on good terms with my artist, too."

"There's something about them, huh?" She's smiling, happy and content, and I feel relief sweep over me again.

"They get to know you, because they're bringing your vision to life. It doesn't surprise me."

It gets quiet almost instantly, so when I glance over at her to find her looking me over carefully, I'm not completely surprised. I'm just not sure, yet again, why she would even be looking at me like she is.

"Anyway," I start, clearing my throat, "it's good to have people in your corner, no matter how they got there."

I can tell she's still looking at me as she simply replies, "True."

I don't want the conversation to end, though, especially not on this note. "Are your roommates journalism students as well?"

"Yeah. Jacyn is everything you'd imagine a reporter would be. There's hardly competition there. Al, though, is a little timid, but he has a way of getting people to be comfortable, which works in his favor. He'll have a good shot at making it, especially if he can gain some confidence. Al's my year, and Jacyn is graduating this semester."

Once again, I find myself surprised. Not that I'm one to judge how people live their lives, but based off of what she's commented about how she was raised, I find it surprising she lives with two guys. I wonder how much her parents know about her life, because they don't strike me as the kind that'd be okay with it.

"I'm sure it's fun around that house," I tease, though the idea of it rubs me the wrong way. _You don't have the right to feel like this, Tobias._

She laughs. "Yeah, Jacyn can be a tough pill to swallow, and sometimes Al is such a polar opposite of us that we clash, but we're all hundreds of miles from home, so we rely on each other."

Shame plummets in my stomach. Why should I feel so upset about it when really, they're probably just like family to her? _Not everyone is a threat, Tobias!_

"I'm glad you have a support system like that," is all I can muster.

"What about you? Other than the tatt artist. Who do you have back in Arizona?"

Once again I tense, but this time, it's because I know the answer is going to raise a red flag. All I can do is try and deflect. "Zeke is really good about calling, and I FaceTime him and Shauna weekly. Work keeps me busy, so I don't get out much."

"That's right, I forgot you weren't personable," she baits, a smirk on her face that has my chest constricting.

"I did warn you," I say softly, like she had earlier back at the pancake house.

She's biting her lip and it's got my head spinning and the car suddenly feels too warm, so I have to turn the heat down to cover up my nerves.

"So, you really are different around me, aren't you?" My cheeks are on fire and I can't tear my eyes off the road as her words creep into every cell of my body. I'm not sure what to think or feel, so all I do is nod. "Why?" When all I do is send her a confused glance, she clarifies, "Why are you different around me?"

I wish I had an answer, because I really wish I understood, too. I'm choking on my heart in my throat, hands shaking just enough to be detected. "Honestly, Tris, I have no idea. Yesterday, I just seemed to notice that there's something about you that is trustworthy, and every chance I've trusted that feeling, I've been proven right."

It's quiet again for a long time, other than the song playing in the background. I don't pay attention to the words, though, because I want to stay present in this moment. When she finally speaks, her voice is steady and clear. "Well, you can, you know. I'm really good at keeping secrets, even when it's not for the best."

The tables seem to have turned. If I weren't driving, it'd be my turn to stare at her intently, trying to figure her out. Her words mean more than it appears, I feel that in my gut, and I want to understand. I want to ask her what she means, to riddle her out, but we've run out of time. We've arrived at Mr. Vega's house, and now I know I have bigger issues to focus on.

"Well, if you're good with secrets, we'll get along just fine," I say flatly. I don't mean to be like this, so blunt and cold, but my physiological reaction is all encompassing.

I park the car outside of the two story brick home and just sit there, willing myself to get this over with. The sooner I go up there and take care of things, the sooner I can leave. _He's just Marcus' assistant, Tobias. Pull yourself together!_

I wish that's all he was…

I feel a soft hand on my shoulder, pulling me back into my surroundings and out of my thoughts. "Tobias? Can you tell me why we're here?"

My heart is pounding so hard against my eardrums, I almost don't hear her, but somehow, her voice always finds a way to reach me. "He uh… He's got some paperwork I need to sign, for the arrangements for the funeral."

Even from my peripheral, I can make out her frown, and my stomach flips painfully in response. "But you know this man from before, right?"

I nod, simultaneously rubbing the back of my neck with one hand and my face with the other. "Yes. The man whose funeral this is… as I said, I've known him for a long time. This man here worked for him nearly as long a time as I knew him. Since I was in Arizona, he is handling the paperwork and managing all the technicalities." It feels like a lie, not telling Tris that this is my father's funeral, and that Mr. Vega has been his and his law partner's assistant for well over a decade. I'm sure it'd have been longer had Marcus not keeled over, _thank God_.

Tris lets out a gust of air. "I'm sure he's _lovely_ ," she says sarcastically, and it actually manages to make me smile.

"Real ray of sunshine," I deadpan, and she grins.

"Well, let's not keep him waiting. The sooner you're done with that, the sooner you get to leave."

Her presences sustains me, channeling enough courage to open the gate, approach the door, and ring the bell. A young woman wearing a skimpy uniform answers the door. Her eyes are an oddly light shade of grey, which is somewhat striking, but otherwise, she seems fairly ordinary. Then she speaks, and her accent is thick, which just makes my blood boil. _He's just as bad as Marcus._ Even Tris is scowling.

"He's expecting me," I say bluntly to the woman before she can say anything other than, "Good afternoon." She doesn't seem to question, just steps back to let us in.

The house is ugly and overtly plain, with it's over glossed wooden floors, beige walls, and odd architecture. I've been here before, but it's always just been another place filled with bad memories. Every muscle in my body is rigid, and my heart rate increases with every step.

As the woman leads us down a hallway, I feel Tris take my hand and squeezes it tightly once. With our fingers are laced together, I squeeze it back and hold it surely, grateful for something to keep me grounded in what needs to be done.

The woman takes us to what I guess is a sitting room and asks us to wait, so we do. The overly polished wood floors are obscured by an ugly rug of varying shades of brown, but what remains uncovered glares too brightly. The couches have burgundy upholstery that fades in places. _Marcus would be disgusted._

The air is too tense, so we don't try to talk. Tris simply keeps hold of my hand, rubbing the muscle at the base of my thumb like she had at the airport. The gentle gesture calms me, soothes me in a way I'm not accustomed to.

After a few minutes, the woman returns, looking ashen. "Sir, come to see him, now. Alone, please." I'm hesitant at first, not trusting Mr. Vega in the slightest, but deep down, I know there's no reason for me to worry about leaving Tris alone here, especially considering I'll be the one with him. As much as Mr. Vega is as abhorrent as Marcus, he's not the type to lash out physically, and if he does, it's always well thought out.

That, and he'd never miss out on a chance to watch.

I turn to Tris and offer her as much of a smile as I can give, but it's not much. "Are you okay to wait here for a few minutes?"

"Of course," she says, but she doesn't seem at all okay. Her eyes are bright and fiery, blazing with an intensity I've not seen from her before, though judging by the way it has my body shrinking in a little, this must be the same type of look she gave Eric at the airport.

I don't have time to ask about it now, so I just follow the woman in uniform out of the sitting room and back down the hallway towards the home office. The door had been closed before, but now it's ajar, and I can see Mr. Vega sitting behind a mahogany desk, dressed in a blue long-sleeve button down. He has close cropped dark hair, and eyes so dark they're almost black in this type of lighting. They're dark almost in the same way mine are, except his are brown, whereas mine are blue.

Mr. Vega is of average height, average looks, average weight for his rather thin frame, and otherwise unremarkable in appearance other than a few scars on his neck, cheek, and forehead. He's not the type of person you'd expect to need to watch like a hawk, in hopes of understanding their motives, but that's probably why he manages to get away with everything he does. Well, that and the help of Marcus in sweeping things under the carpet.

His mentality, however, is hardly ordinary, comparing to that of Marcus', though Marcus has had decades to perfect his cruelty in ways he wouldn't ever get caught. Mr. Vega is closer to my age than Marcus', but I have always been a child in his eyes; a mere subordinate that he had permission to deal with however he saw fit, so long as it was in line with the way Marcus handled things. The two are still eerily similar; he is more Eaton than I am, in that way.

Before I know it, I'm sat in front of the dark-eyed serpent, whose stare is cold and calculating. "Tobias Eaton," he states, not as if he's addressing me but rather answering a question. He narrows his eyes, cocking his head to the side a bit as he sits back in his leather desk chair. "So, it appears the prodigal son returns."

My stare goes unblinking, unfeeling, unobliging. He will not toy with me, not anymore. I don't even offer acknowledgement at any supposed interpretation of wrongdoing on my part. He knows the truth, but he and Marcus were insistent on trying to convince me that the fault was my own, ever since I was young enough to retain sentient thoughts.

"Seems the cat got your tongue," he says, flashing what most people would peg as a charming smile, but I recognize what's hidden behind the expression. "I can't blame you, she is nice to look at."

His eyes drift to the computer screen I didn't bother looking at, only to see Tris up on the screen. Some kind of surveillance must be set up in the sitting room because she's seen pacing, arms folded irritably across her chest as she looks around. I can tell she's trying to distract herself from her pressing thoughts, but she's too restless to be successful.

Mr. Vega starts to laugh softly, nothing more than a rumbling sound that grates my eardrums until I look at him again. "There's the Eaton blood," he remarks, noting the tension that practically binds me and my hands balled up into fists at my side. I don't like the idea of Mr. Vega taking any notice to Tris. _Why did I bring her here?_

I've still not said a word, which means I'm not playing his game. He's patient, sure, but he doesn't like defiance. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Tobias. I could page for Anichka to fetch that sweet little thing, so I can have a real conversation."

 _Let me tell you what will_ not _be happening._

"Aren't you a little old for games, Vega?" My voice is lower than it usually is. It's only somewhat unintentional, but the rest is all a threat. He may be more cunning, more sharp, more vicious, but unless he resorts to weapons, he wouldn't stand a chance against me, and even still, I know how to handle myself. He'd have to be a damn good shot…

Mr. Vega smiles. "Hello, Mr. Eaton. It's nice of you to join the conversation." His eyes stare into mine, watching and waiting for me to flinch. Mr. Eaton has always been Marcus. To call me that is to link me again to that useless waste of a human.

"I'm here to sign some papers, and to get the hell out of here. Anything else, and I walk out the door, and you can wait until I see Andrew." There's no room for negotiation in my tone, but it's not the reason Mr. Vega ends up smiling as he opens the bottom left drawer of his desk. The paperwork is probably the root of his joy.

He pulls out a manila folder and places it in front of me. "These all need to be signed before the meeting with Andrew. He will need them immediately. You know the deal, Mr. Eaton. Don't even bother reading the fine print at this point."

"Like hell I won't," I snap. "I will not give anyone an ounce more than I already agreed to. Don't forget that I know about _everything_."

Mr. Vega laughs. "Oh, I won't deny that you know an awful lot, Mr. Eaton, but you certainly don't know all of it. I know for a fact you can't even account for all of your own life."

My stomach flips painfully, struggling to remain neutral. He's right. I have little to no memory of anything prior to my eighth birthday, for reasons I can't even begin to venture. How he knows this, however, fails to be seen.

"Read the fine print if you must. Most of it just the business paperwork. Andrew drew them up himself," he adds bitterly. He's not cared for Andrew in all the years he's worked for him, but did so because he's Marcus' right hand man. "Just keep in mind the deals already made. I'd hate to see what happens if you don't, though I'm sure Wyatt Blake could give you a few ideas."

It's impossible not to cringe. Wyatt Blake was one of the men Marcus managed to set free due to contaminated labs, shoddy police work, questionable eyewitness testimony, and sheer Marcus charm in spinning the truth and appealing with lies and skewed ideas. Nevermind that he was a violent, dangerous man responsible for the brutal murders of over a dozen people, including three children, as well as dozens of other crimes ranging from bank robbery to arson. I know for a fact Marcus has asked Wyatt Blake for a few favors since, and he has been more than happy to oblige.

I'd like to think that Marcus being dead would be enough for Blake to tell Mr. Vega to piss off if he came asking for favors, but knowing him, he might not turn down a job, even if he doesn't owe it to anybody.

I grab the folder and rest in on my lap, resisting the urge to toss it in the trash. "Is there anything else?"

He looks me over for a while, calculating something in his mind. Then he cocks his head again, his lips curling up blissfully. "One last thing. Mr. Eaton, there are appearances to be kept in these settings, of course. This funeral needs to be exactly as your father planned." I cringe again as he refers to Marcus in such a way, which only makes him smile more. "There will be a lot of old coworkers and friends in attendance, so you need to be an Eaton." _I don't want to be an Eaton. Not if it means being like him._

"Most importantly," he continues, his voice now sharp as to demand my attention, "since you have slacked in these past years and remain a bachelor, I expect you to find yourself a woman to stand by your side that morning. Your father was forced to assume your relationship status, seeing as you kept him in the dark." He gives me a cold, unforgiving look, as if I had betrayed him. "Luckily, he assumed you'd have at least found a play thing, and judging by the accessory you left behind in that sitting room, he was right."

My skin grows hot at the mention of Tris is such a vile way, implying she is anything less than me, or him, or anyone, for that matter. I know he's trying to bait me, trying to get under my skin, but I can't let him. "I don't believe in playthings," I say coldly.

"Call it whatever you want, but that's about all a woman is good for, so you might as well embrace the name."

The ache in my jaw almost distracts me enough, seething over this man and his abhorrent mind. "And if I choose not to bring a woman? Wouldn't it be easy enough to say that my implied partner is out of town? Caught up at work? Down with the flu? You know how to lie, Vega. Don't let Marcus' descent into hell be your change of heart."

For the first time today, the facade flickers enough to show malice that could rival what Marcus possessed. It's gone as fast as it came, though, replaced by a smile. "Your father requested it in the arrangements, so you will do this for him. Consider it his dying wish."

"Like I give a shit about his dying wish," I spit at him, rage coursing through me. "I'm glad the bastard gets to rot in the ground for the rest of time. If it were up to me, I'd dump his rotting corpse into a ditch and leave it to disintegrate into nothing but dust."

I've really struck a nerve this time, evident by the twitch in Mr. Vega's upper lip. "Let me put this very simply, Tobias. You bring a woman to stand by you at the funeral or else I consider your contract broken and all deals off the table, as per Marcus' request. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Unfortunately, he does, but I refuse to say anything to him about that. "Is there anything else?"

He smiles. "Just dress your best, and make sure the doll does, too."

He turns to his computer, looking at Tris as she paces the living room still. I don't wait for him to dismiss me, eager to get the hell out of here. I'm about to close the door behind me when he says, "Oh, and Mr. Eaton, I look forward to seeing you again at the meeting with Andrew. Hopefully, you'll be sensible and it'll be a nice, laid back meeting and everyone will leave happy."

This isn't a well wish. This is a threat, and knowing Mr. Vega, he will stand by it, no matter the cost. Hopefully I know how to do enough to end this once and for all. I hope to God that this can all finally be over…

 **AN- So how's that for stirring things up? As I said, it's not going to be as warm and fuzzy as the beginning (but there will of course be moments, still), so prepare for more chapters like the ending if this one, and of course some even darker parts to come. (For example, future chapters will dive into Tobias' childhood). And what do you all make of Mr. Vega? He's an original character that will be reappearing in this story. I didn't anticipate him having a role when I mentioned him in Chapter One, but now he has quite an important role in things to come, which has added this whole other dimension to the story.**

 **And as for Chapter Eight... I am just SO STINKIN EXCITED to post it! I'm not sure when exactly, but I'm hoping to aim for Monday. It's another long one, and we get to meet another new character (from the books) as well as some other little goodies.**

 **Have I mentioned how much I adore you all? 'Cause I really do. Every review makes my whole day, and I am nearly overwhelmed by how many people have read, favorited, followed, and reviewed. I love all the feedback and hearing the parts you like and enjoy, seeing the parts that people connect to, etc. I look forward to seeing how you all liked this one!**

 **-Willow**


	8. Chapter 8

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters do not belong to me. Characters and some ideas are based off Veronica Roth's series, as are any quotes used._

 _Rated M for language, adult situations, possible upsetting situations, etc_

 **AN: Sorry for the delayed update. I've been sick for the past five days, so editing and writing has been excruciatingly difficult. I hope I can make up for it with the nearly 8,000 words.**

Chapter Eight

Tris hardly looked at me when I went to get her from the sitting room, and Anichka was silent and somber as she stood in the corner watching us leave. I didn't say a word, not wanting anything to be said for Mr. Vega to hear, just in case his surveillance isn't strictly visual.

There's no mistaking the tension in Tris' petite frame, or the fierceness in her eyes that flashes like a wildfire. All the way out of the house, to the car, and down the street from Mr. Vega's house, we remain silent, though I'm sure words as sharp as daggers are drifting across Tris' mind. I'm still unsure what I did that has her angry with me, but at the same time, I don't want to push her into talking about it.

She doesn't even plug music in after we settle in, so the first few minutes are an agony of a heavy silence. I don't want to be the one to break it, but I have to ask, "Where am I taking you you?"

"Webster and Lincoln," I hear her say just barely loud enough for me to hear. _She doesn't sound angry..._

We're probably about five minutes away when she finally breaks the silence. "Do you like coffee or tea?"

I chance a glance over at her, and her expression is soft, tentative. It's so different than earlier, my stomach flips from the polarity.

"Uh, coffee," I manage. My hands grip the steering wheel tightly, as if begging to hold on for dear life.

"If you have time, I can make you some. My dad gets this really nice stuff…" Her voice trails off, trembling with nerves.

"Tris, is everything alright?"

"Huh?" Our eyes meet briefly, and hers are shimmering with emotion. She glances away, nodding. "I'm fine. There's just some stuff on my mind…"

Whatever it is, I know it's because of the visit with Mr. Vega. I don't bring it up again while in the car, because I'd rather be able to look her in the eye next time we talk about it.

I turn onto Lincoln Avenue, and we've only driven a few thousand feet before Tris points out a beautiful row home that I assume to be her parent's house. I park right in front of the steps that lead to the front entry on the second level.

Tris runs up to the front door to open it up before coming to the car to help me grab a box to bring inside. She leads me through the entryway and into the house, where we face the ornate staircase. To the left is a sitting room, and I can see the detailing of the white fireplace mantel from here. She leads me through this room, with its burgundy painted walls, gold chandelier, tall front windows, and hardwood floors. It's a warm space, with paintings adorning the wall and fixtures on the mantel adding pops of color amidst the wood furniture and varying shades of brown upholstery.

After we pass through this room, we walk into the dining room, where Tris sets down the first box on a rustic wooden table, and I follow suit. This room has beige walls, much like Mr. Vega's house, but the varying types of wood, the oriental run, the fresh cut flowers in a vase on the table, and the stained glass windows add the needed color to make the room warm and feel more homey.

Tris watches me looking around, taking in the house. As nice as it is, there seems to be very little in the way of personal effects, much like Marcus' house, which only stirs up the earlier conversations I've had with Tris.

"I'm going to go start the coffee real quickly, then we can go get the other boxes," she says as she drapes her jacket over the back of one of the dining room chairs, her voice still soft like in the car. "You're welcome to stay for a while. I'll warn you, though, Christina is supposed to stop by sometime soon, so if you want to avoid any more people without filters, I can find you a to-go cup."

"I think I'll be okay," I say with a hint of a smile, which makes her raise an eyebrow skeptically before she opens two wooden sliding doors that lead into a bright kitchen with white cabinetry, walls painted a light yellow, stainless steel appliances, and grey granite counter tops.

While she's busy in the kitchen, I take the liberty of making the two trips to bring the last boxes in. I'm just setting the last box on the table when she comes back out from the kitchen, wearing a frown. "I could have helped, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but there was no reason I couldn't finish up while you were busy." Our eyes lock, suddenly, and the silence is pressing. Even though it's only been hours since I first saw her at the pancake house, she looks different to me since then. This past hour, especially, has set her into my consciousness, and even though she's evolving in my mind, she's becoming more and more real and concrete with every second. She's not just some pretty woman at the bar anymore, though I haven't actually ever thought of her as just that. I've known she was something special from the moment I saw her standing her ground at the airport.

 _I'm so glad I noticed her…_

Her lips press into a tight, forced smile. "Thank you," she says even softer, her eyes flitting away from mine.

"No need to thank me," I say flatly, somewhat peeved by the way she feels the need to be polite with me. "I owe you, anyway," I try to joke, but her eyes light up almost incredulously.

"Owe me? For what?"

Instinctively, my hand rubs at the back of my neck and I have to look away. "Last night at the airport, this afternoon with my blabbermouth friends, a half hour ago at that house… I could go on, if you'd like."

She's frowning at me, but her look is softer this time. "You don't have to repay me for anything, Tobias. You're helping me out just as much, if not more. I mean, I'm asking so much from you! You don't even know me."

"I wasn't aware you had to know someone to be a decent human being."

We fall into an awkward silence, both of us lost in our respective thoughts, but neither of us know how to break it. Thankfully, we don't have to, because a loud beep from the kitchen does it for us. The sound makes Tris jerk out of her thoughts. "How do you take your coffee?"

"I can make it," I offer as I take a tentative step towards the kitchen, towards her, but she just grins at me.

"I can make you a damn cup of coffee, _Four_. Besides, you wouldn't know where anything is." She's smirking, thankfully returning to the playful nature I've come to really enjoy.

Sighing in defeat, I shake my head in humor, offering a very faint smile of surrender. "Just a spoonful of sugar, please."

"Coming right up, _Mary Poppins_ ," she says brightly, and I watch her walk into the kitchen.

Now that she's not wearing her jacket, I can see that the back of her shirt is almost completely made of a sheer material, aside from where her shoulders are. She's not wearing an undershirt or anything, so I can see the expanse of her back and where her pants hug her just right. I wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the sway of her hips pulling me into a trance as she walks, but now that I have, the effort to be a gentleman and keep my eyes where they belong becomes excessively conscious.

She gracefully moves around, pulling down two black coffee mugs and setting them down in front of the stainless steel coffee maker before pouring generous amounts into each. She walks to the fridge and pulls out some kind of creamer before she pours a dash of the white cream into one mug. Once the creamer is back in the fridge, she opens a cabinet and pulls down a little glass container and spoons in some sugar into the other mug.

She carefully walks back into the dining room and hands over my cup of coffee. "Thank you," I tell her before taking a grateful sip. Last night is going to catch up with me pretty quickly, and _damn_ is this good coffee...

"No need to thank me," she mimics me with a smirk.

We both end up laughing, shaking our heads at each other. As the moment fades, however, the tension crescendos in the way Tris looks at me from at the end of the table, where her coat remains draped on a chair. I catch her shaking her head vaguely as she sets her mug down so she can take off her scarf.

In doing so, she reveals three tattoos. They're black birds, and it looks like they're taking flight across her collarbone towards her heart.

"So you weren't lying," I try to say lightly, in hopes of easing some of the tension.

Her smile is vague, but genuine as she picks up her mug once more. "Nope. I have one more, but that one I don't show people," she admits.

I nod in understanding. "That's how I am with mine. I'm not privy to taking my clothes off."

She had just taken a sip of coffee as I spoke, so I shouldn't be surprised when she chokes on the hot liquid. Her face turns bright red in embarrassment, but I just smile at her. "I'm not even that funny."

She shoots me a playful glare. "You just have impeccable timing."

It's my turn to tense, now, thinking about how all the times I said or did something at the worst possible moment, which led to harsh punishments… punishments that won't ever fade, even if my tattoo does mask it.

"You say that like it's a good thing," I can't help but mutter, though I regret the words the moment I say them.

Tris' heavy sigh sends my heart racing faster than necessary as her eyes flash their familiar intensity. "Okay, look, this is going to seem like it's coming out of left field, and I know it's not even any of my business, and it's incredibly rude of me to even be thinking about this, let alone _asking_ about this, and I know you just met me like a day ago, but…" She sighs heavily again, flustered by her rant and maybe even by herself, but she still seems determined to get it all out. "Okay, can you just tell me _why_ you're doing all this? Why are you arranging a funeral for some man you said for yourself was an asshole? Why bother torturing yourself dealing with his funeral? You don't owe him anything, so... why?"

I've never quite seen a person like this around me: eyes bright with an emotion that makes my stomach flip and heart skip, expression heavier than my shoulders can carry, and I just want to ease whatever it is she's feeling, because she shouldn't be looking at _me_ like that.

"He specifically requested that I take care of everything," I supply simply, though still evasively.

The lines of her face cut deeply as her frown transfigures her expression. "Why you? Didn't he know you didn't like him? How did you even know the guy? Was he a boss or something? After being away for so long, wasn't there anyone else that he was closer to that could have done it? What about this guy you had to see today? Why couldn't he just do it?"

She's prying, and pretty excessively at that, which normally gets me pretty angry, if not plain old defensive. Tris isn't like most people, though, and her questions aren't striking the same, hypersensitive nerves. I can clearly see she's just trying to understand, undoubtedly seeing my tormented expressions and sensing the tension building at the hands of being around Mr. Vega and handling Marcus' funeral. There's something else there, too, but my mind is racing way too fast to be able to riddle it out right now.

"I…" My heart won't slow down, and I swear my vision is starting to black out from it. _Pull yourself together, Tobias!_ "I'm the only person he has. I...I don't have a choice."

My eyes sting as I think about what I wouldn't give to just say, "Fuck this and fuck you," to anything and anyone associated with Marcus and Mr. Vega. Hell, even though I've tolerated Andrew all these years, he's still a coward that let awful people get away with awful crimes. I hope my future can be void of him, too.

Tris' voice is low and clear, soft but somehow filling the entire space of the dining room. "I don't buy that." Her face is set firmly into the most intense gaze I've ever seen from a person. It renders me temporarily defenseless, disarmed in every sense. "There's always a choice, Tobias."

That snaps me right out of it like whiplash. "What are you suggesting, exactly?" I ask angrily, probably unreasonably so, but I am an Eaton, and that seems to be just as inherent as my blue eyes, which are so much like Marcus'. "I'm not a liar, Tris, and I don't do well with people that suggest that I am."

I let out a heavy sigh, ashamed of myself already for lashing out, but also not being in a place to voice that. I try softening my voice, but I'm not sure it makes much of a difference. "I don't go around spilling the truth around, but I don't make up stories or scenarios or bullshit like that. If I have to, I leave out certain details, but usually it's because the whole truth can be more harmful, or is unnecessary."

She raises an eyebrow. "That's still a lie."

" _Bullshit_. Some things people don't need to know!" I'm feeling frustrated and judged, though I'm pretty sure she's not intending it to come across like this, but I react the same, anyway. "So you're telling me that by me not laying out all of my personal business at the bar last night, that was me lying to you? I don't consider being cautious about what you tell people as lying, so I call _bullshit_."

Both eyebrows raise this time, her mouth dropped open. "I'm not talking about that, Tobias! I'm talking about answering a direct question someone asks you, or something like that. You either tell the truth or you lie, plain and simple. If you don't want to tell someone the honest to God truth, you need to own that. Otherwise, what you say is supposed to be trusted and taken as the truth. Leaving out details is misleading and misrepresenting the truth, thus making it a lie. I don't care what you do, or if you do it, but at least call it what it is!"

My anger and irritation turns to awe at the sight of her in this moment, with her eyes brighter than I've ever seen them, clear and reflecting the light in the room brilliantly. Her cheeks are rosy, and the light from the front windows seems to catch in her hair, giving her a glow that makes her seem almost ethereal. The whole effect has me fixated on her, too shocked by her rant to say anything.

She spares me by continuing, pacing now to diffuse whatever it is she's feeling. "I'm not saying all lying is inherently bad or that you're shitty for doing it. God knows I've told my share of lies…" She stops, her face pulled into a deep frown. "But I'll be the first to admit a lie for what it is."

She turns to me, her look serious as she stares at me for a lingering moment. She no longer seems angry so much as uneasy, or maybe a bit on edge. I wish I could read her mind, understand what all she's thinking and feeling, because this territory is completely unknown to me, and I feel utterly lost.

When she finally does speak again, her eyes and voice have softened. "I want you to know, I meant what I said before, Tobias. You can trust me. I can keep a secret, if that's what you're worried about. Please, just... be honest with me. I'd rather you tell me you don't want to talk about something than you tell me a lie, _or even just part of the truth_." She closes her eyes, briefly, willing herself to keep composure. "And I know I threw a lot of questions at you, so I'm sorry if it pressured you. Just, please… don't lie to me," she all but pleads.

I shake my head slowly. "If you want honesty, then I'll say, the whole truth hasn't ever been on my side before, so I usually don't trust it with others."

She bites her lip, her eyes flashing something I can't read, though my chest aches at the sight. "I know what you mean, but I promise you, truth is valuable to me, and I don't take it for granted. I'm all too familiar with lies and the way they can backfire, hurting anyone close enough to see it."

Hurt swims in her eyes, but she doesn't let it affect her otherwise. That does little to comfort the ache in my chest or ease the urge to pull her into my arms and hold her tightly, willing the pressure to rid the pain.

"It's not that I don't trust you, Tris. I… I'm surprised by how much I _do_ trust you, and honestly, I haven't even begun to figure out what the hell is happening between you and I. You heard Zeke… I'm not like this, except with you… So, it's not about trust. It's about…" I run my hands through my hair, frustrated by my blunt honesty and by lack of success in supplying a decent explanation. Hell, frustrated by my lack of a _reasonable_ explanation, as opposed to the truth. "The truth comes with a price, and sometimes, the price doesn't seem worth paying."

Her expression is understanding, but haunted. "You don't strike me as the type of person that won't act because of fear, so I guess… I guess I just don't understand."

My hands are shaking slightly, head spinning, stomach twisting painfully, and palms sweating profusely, the pressure of everything threatening to burst any second.

She's right, though. I've worked for years, doing everything I can to acquire the tools I need to make sure fear never stops me from acting again. I already know I instinctively trust Tris, more than anyone I've ever met. I'll never find out if my instincts have been right I don't give her a chance, and right now is as good a time as any. Better to find out now before my mind gets muddled by anything else.

 _Be brave, Tobias._

"It's my father's… It's his funeral."

The silence is tangible, heavy like cinder blocks on my chest. I watch as the light dims in her eyes, her face pale of its vibrant blush, and her shoulders droop like there's nothing to hold them up for anymore. A second wave of what I can only describe as grief washes over me, and I'm not sure if the nauseous feeling is psychosomatic or genuine.

"I'm sorry, Tobias, I-"

"No. Don't apologize. Not on behalf of the vile piece of human waste," I spit out, my neck so tense it hurts.

She's shaking her head hastily, her eyes wide. "I wasn't. I was apologizing to _you_."

Her words feel like a punch to the gut, and for a second, my world spins. "Unreal," I mutter as I grip the back of a chair for stability, shaking my head irritably. "I don't want your _pity_ ," I grit out.

"Tobias, look at me," she says sharply, intensely. I want to ignore her, I'm so _angry_ , but her tone doesn't leave much room for negotiation. Her eyes pierce mine, not with anger but with desperation. "You misunderstood me. For one, I'm apologizing for practically backing you in a corner. I never thought… If I had known…" Her shoulders sag again as her eyes drop to the floor, lost in defeat. "No one should have to hash that out. Not on request." She's biting her lip, making me crazy, but not in a good way. "I'm sorry I put you in that position. Not only was it cruel and unfair to you, but unwarranted, and I'm sorry for that."

I let out a deep sigh, shaking my head. "Don't apologize for pushing me to be better… for reminding me to be brave. Not _ever_."

She lets her eyes meet mine again as she takes in a shaky breath, nodding. "Okay… Well, speaking of honestly, it's more than that. Honest to God, I'm sorry that you have to be here for this. After whatever it is he put you through, you deserve better than granting dying wishes for someone who doesn't deserve it in the slightest."

I'm blown away by the way she's speaking of Marcus, albeit indirectly, without even knowing who he is. I haven't told her any specifics about that piece of shit, and still, she seems to just what kind of man he was. Most people have lived disillusioned by his image, ensnared by the facade he's grown up perfecting. My word has never meant anything to anyone before.

Except to Tris.

All I can manage is a stiff nod, my body only relaxing slightly.

She surprises me with, "Thank you." She responds to my frown with an equally soft, "For trusting me."

"Consider this a trial run," I say in a poor attempt at breaking the tension.

She shakes her head vaguely, letting out a huff of a laugh before biting down on her lip. Then she busts out laughing melodically, her eyebrows raised. After a few seconds, all she manages to get out is, "Dork."

All tension dissipates for a blissful moment as we both laugh and I joke, "Did you just call me a dork?"

She smirks, her eyes bright and sparkling mischievously. "I did. What are you going to do about it?"

 _I could kiss that damn smirk right off your face._

My cheeks redden at the same time hers do, but neither of us comment on it; neither of us willing to admit to whatever it was we were thinking about. We just stare at each other, longer than what would normally be socially acceptable, but not to an extent where it feels awkward. The moment is only broken when Tris gets a text. Sighing, she glances at the screen for a few seconds. When she scowls, I ask her what's going on.

"Eric texted me. _Again_." She closes her eyes, shaking her head. "He's sent a few already, but this one really takes the cake." She opens up the full text, cringing slightly as she reads, "'You're such an ungrateful, selfish bitch. I can't believe I wasted so much time and effort on someone unworthy of it.' Spare me from reading the rest, though, because it's true."

Frustration and rage toward Eric flares up in my chest, a monster eager to show that son of a bitch what he really deserves. At the same time, all I can think about is what Tris thinks about this. If she's accepting whatever pathetic tantrum the dumbass is force feeding her, I need to squash whatever is trying to take root before it further solidifies her skewed self-image. "No offense, but I hardly believe that, especially after what you told me last night."

"Touche," she sighs, closing her eyes. "I guess what I meant is that the image he paints resembles the one I see of myself. Whether or not it's true to others, it hits home as true for me, and I don't need to hear myself say it out loud."

 _That… does not help. At all._

"What are you thinking?" she asks in a small voice when I don't say anything for a while, her eyes looking into mine almost vulnerably. _I wonder what mine look like to her?_

"I'm thinking… I hate whoever the hell ever made you feel inferior. Anyone, all of them, just…" I clench my jaw for a second, close my eyes to gain composure. "Maybe hate is a strong word, but I can't stand the idea of anyone, let alone you, thinking you're not good enough."

"I never said I'm not good enough," she tries to defend, but I won't let that slide.

"Oh, really?" I challenge, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep," she says stubbornly, popping the 'p' harshly.

"So you never said that your brother was, and I quote, 'the smart one'? As if getting a full ride scholarship isn't smart?"

She bites her lip, but her eyes are stubbornly staring back at me, refusing to budge. "That's not me saying I'm not good enough."

I roll my eyes. "You know what I mean, Tris. That's you saying you're not smart because he's supposedly smarter. Should I mention all the times you deflect when someone compliments you? What about your rant about how the only reason you help others is because you used to do it with your mom? Never mind that you yourself said you wanted to get more classes in things like _sociology_ and that you like to know the issues going on surrounding your community." I sigh for a moment, rubbing my face with both hands. I know I'm being hard on her, but honestly, I'm not sure I know how to be any other way, in times like these. "You don't have to say the words to be communicating the opinion."

She stares at me blankly for a moment, eyes wide as she seems to study me. She shakes her head, like she's trying to find clarity. "I don't get it." Confusion takes over her face, contorting her features. "I don't mean this in a bad way, but I… I don't get…" She bites her lip, trying to gather some nerve. "Why do you care so much? About me?"

My first instinct is to deflect, to avoid the pool of thoughts and feelings I've accumulated in regards to Tris over the past twenty or so hours, but the energy coursing between us almost always has me helplessly engaged, as if disabling me. If it were anyone else, I'd resent them for it. With Tris, though, it doesn't feel threatening. It almost feels… liberating?

 _Be honest. Just try._

"I don't know if I can explain that completely just yet, but what I do know is that you deserve so much more than what you're allowing yourself to have."

She sighs, almost like she's frustrated. "Tobias, I... I don't know what you see. You and Lynn and everybody today made me out to be some kind of saint or something, but honestly, there's nothing remarkable about me!" Her voice waivers, not like she's feeling sorry for herself, but like she feels _guilty_ , as if her being remarkable in any way was a crime or something to be ashamed of. "Okay, yes, I like volunteering and I got a full ride, but so do _hundreds_ of other people. I'm not saying I don't have things to be proud of, but it's not a big deal, it's nothing special, it's-"

"Will you stop doing that?" My voice is sharp and harsh, far more intense than I intend to be.

"I'm s-sorry," she stammers meekly, her eyes falling to the floor again.

"Tris, stop it!" These little submissive tendencies that reflect her self-deprecating inner dialogue makes this so much worse for me, driving me absolutely batshit crazy with feelings I probably shouldn't even have. Just like that, she had surrendered up her voice like it meant nothing; like she didn't have a say that mattered. It bothers me that she's doing this because of me, but I'm too caught up in my frustration to punish myself thoroughly just yet. It wasn't my intention, but it still was the result, and that's almost as bad.

I close the gaping space separating us, only leaving about six inches between us as I tilt her chin up with one hand, so that our eyes meet, and use the other to tuck back a few of the tendrils of hair that have escaped her bun and fallen across her face. Her skin is warm as it flushes beneath my fingers, but it does little to ease my mind at the moment, even as jolts of electricity shoot through my body at every point of contact we share.

I'm so beyond rational thought at this point. I feel about as intentional as an avalanche right now.

In this moment, her eyes aren't their sharp shade that I've become transfixed with, but a dull, unassuming color. When she gets down on herself, this is what happens. The spark that lives behind those irises ceases to exist like I've come to know. I want to see the light shine without falter; grow uncontained until she is an inferno that will consume me. I want her to burn so brightly that even she can't deny her magnificence. I want every destructive force to pale in comparison to hers, and I want her to know it's because of her strength, her power.

I finally get out, "You don't have to apologize. Not to me, not to anyone, and you don't need to keep talking about yourself like you're not worthy of anything. You are strong and brave and smart, Tris. You see things other people don't see. You do things to help others without even thinking about it. You are captivating and fierce and have more nerve than anyone I've ever met. You should not be selling yourself short, not for anyone or anything, not ever."

She's looking at me in a way I've never been looked at before, and not just from her, but anyone. There's a hint of confusion, while there's also a hint of belief, like something I said resonated with her. The rest, though? There can't be words for that expression.

I get to watch as the light comes back into her eyes, like the sun creeping above the horizon, lighting up every different speck of color in her irises. Before long, they're so piercing, I'd normally look away, but I can't tear my eyes away from her. I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't even blink as her eyes dart back and forth between my own, begging me to answer a question she can't quite seem to ask.

And yet, somehow, I still know the answer.

Before I know it, before I can think against it, my hands have her face cradled between them, and there's hardly any space between us, now. She presses closer, just enough for our foreheads to finally rest together. The feeling of her soft skin under my fingertips and against me, and with her being this close to my lips sends me in a mental tailspin. I have to will myself to slow down, because I'm not thinking.

 _Fuck thinking._

She leans in the moment I do, her lips and mine finding each other before my heart even has a chance to beat out of my chest. All I can register at first, all my mind can handle, is the feel of her soft lips fitting perfectly to mine. Then I feel her hands gently rest on my chest above my heart before we break apart, and all I feel is the loss of her closeness and I can't stand it.

I capture her lips with mine before she can pull away, more insistent and sure of it this time. I have no idea what I'm doing, but this feels _right_. I can't imagine doing this with anyone else. I don't _want_ to do this with anyone else.

Then, to my utter delight, she slowly comes alive. I feel one of her hands move against my chest, slowly smoothing up my neck, and into my hair at the base of my skull, goosebumps surfacing in her wake. Her touch stirs a need in me that's almost painful but at the same time, it doesn't feel like enough. I know there's more, more than just this, even within a kiss, and I want to share all of it with her.

When we pull apart to breathe, it takes less than a second for me to realize neither of us is okay with stopping. No matter how close we get, no matter how much we give or take, it's not enough. How can it be?

We kiss again, both of us struggling in the moment and against each others lips. This one feels different, too; desperate for something we don't know how to define yet. It's as thrilling as it is terrifying, especially intermixing with the way my body responds to her touch, her grip on me, the way her lips feel against mine, her intoxicating scent of coffee and something light and floral that sparks a hunger I haven't really known before this girl, the softest hum of need reaching my ears and numbing my brain...

Suddenly, I can feel her hands shaking from where they rest, one still on my chest and the other tangled into my hair. Our breathing is heavy as I break the kiss, pulling away from her to see her expression.

Her eyes are tightly closed, her brow furrowed up in mild distress. "Tris?" I whisper to her, squeezing her hip a little. I don't remember moving my left hand from her face, but its hold on her feels almost desperate. _Think about that later, Tobias._

Tris buries her face into my chest, and I don't understand what's happening. As much as I'm thrilled to have her close to me like this and to have just kissed her, I know I'll go crazy if she doesn't talk to me, so I push her back gently by her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Tobias," she starts, guilt weighing her words down in my stomach.

"You don't need to be sorry, Tris, it's my fault I-"

She cuts me off, her soft fingertips stopping my lips. If I hadn't just had the most sensational kisses mere moments ago, I wouldn't believe such a simple touch could pack such a response. Her touch stokes that newly lit fire from deep in me that used to be foreign, but now strictly belongs to anything that is Tris.

"Hey, please don't be sorry," she pleads, finally meeting my eyes. They're so beautiful. _She's_ so beautiful, and I just want to shower her in my realization of it. "I…" She bites her lip, clearly nervous, but it does things to me that I don't think I could admit, even to her. Not yet, anyway. "I'm going to be completely honest."

"Please," I plead, gripping her hip again in hopes that my hold on her will ground me.

She nods for a second, gathering up courage. "Okay. I uh… I really wanted to kiss you. I did, and I'm glad we did." Sweet relief crashes over me in waves, calming my stomach and the tension that has built up in my muscles.

Then it hits me. She was shaking. "You're afraid of me." I say rather than ask, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. _She can see I am just like Marcus. She knows I'm no good for her. She can see how fucked up I am. Oh God, maybe she-_

"Not you," she says, biting her lip to keep it still as it quivers ever so slightly. "Being with you… with anyone. I've never been involved with anyone before… not _really_... and… we're only here for a week, and we have lives back home, and I don't know what your expectations are, and-"

"Tris," I cut her off sternly, though the relief I'm feeling wants to win out. _We can figure all that out later…_ I'm about to talk to her about what she just confessed, but then the front door opens, and we jump away from each other, both our faces flushing.

"Trissy!" comes a voice from the entry just out of sight.

"In here, Chris!" Tris calls out, her voice shaking a little. She gives me a look of disappointment. "Sorry," she whispers. "We'll pick up later?" she asks. I can't deny that I'm relieved she's willing to talk it out, still.

So I smile at her and nod just as a tall, willowy girl enters the dining room. She has dark brown skin, chin length dark hair and dark brown eyes that light up when she sees the two of us. "Who's this?" she asks, though I get the impression she already knows exactly who I am.

"Chris, this is Tobias," she says as she places a hand on my back, urging me a little closer to her friend so we can be introduced. The small touch sets my skin on fire, and I'm desperate for the flames to continue their trek in devouring me. "Tobias, this is Christina," she says, smiling up at me.

We shake hands briefly before we step back from each other, an awkward silence settling before Christina says, "Oh, yeah, he's so much better."

I can practically feel the blush coming off of Tris from beside me and when I glance at her, she's shooting a death glare at her friend. It's impossible to bite back the smile. _She's so beautiful when she blushes like that, even with the death glare._ "Better?" I ask, because despite the reaction from Tris, I have no idea what Christina is referring to.

"Yes. You." Tris groans, burying her head in her hands, but I still am lost. Christina looks incredulously between me and Tris, finally resting on Tris to ask, "Is he as much a stiff as you?!"

"Stiff?" I try out the slang, even though I don't know what it means.

"It's like a prude but-" Tris starts, but Christina cuts her off.

"-but worse. You know, where flirtation, fun, fornication, all frowned upon," she deadpans, staring straight in my eyes. My bright red cheeks must confirm it for her because she rolls her eyes. "We'll see," is all she gets to say before Tris snaps out of it.

"No way, that's not-"

"Unless you promise to break him of it," Christina interrupts Tris with a wink.

" _Christina!_ "

"What?! I'll back up enough to let you handle it, I'm not going to-" Tris gives a look that is so intense, her friend stops in her tracks. "Or, not," she finishes lamely.

Tris nods once before she turns to me, giving me an apologetic look. Then she smirks a little and says, "In case you were wondering where my lack of filter came from." She nods at Christina, who smiles with a bit of embarrassment.

"I just get excited, okay?" Christina whines.

We're interrupted by my phone ringing, and when I check the caller I.D., I come to find it's Andrew. I excuse myself, heading towards the front entry so that Tris and Christina don't have to listen to this.

"Hello, Andrew," I say, void of emotion.

"Tobias," he states, as if he's surprised I answered. "I hope you made it to Chicago alright."

"I got here this morning."

"Excellent," he remarks somewhat absently, like he's distracted. "I hope you were able to pick up the necessary paperwork for tomorrow's meeting."

"I picked it up not too long ago. It'll be finished."

"Good, good." He sighs. "Well, then, just be at the office by two o'clock."

"Okay, will do," I say before hanging up the phone, not bothering to say goodbye.

That tension from earlier is back in full force, but I don't want to hash things out around Christina, so I linger in the entryway, letting my thoughts take me over for a minute.

I realize that almost everything Andrew has ever done that's wrong, or at least questionable, stems from Marcus and threats similar to those given to me by Mr. Vega. Still, some of what I do know seems unforgivable to me. He may not have been the one to do it or initiate this whole tangled mess that Marcus, may have only made his choices out of fear, and probably didn't want to let it happen, but I can't say that takes any of the blame from him. Like Tris said, everyone has a choice. He chose to look the other way or cover up the wrongdoings.

From some of the things I've heard over the years, none was more surprising that he brought his family down with him. I've never met his wife or kids, but I know they got sucked into the mess, not necessarily all that differently than I did. The difference lies in Marcus being the perpetrator, and Andrew willingly acted as a pawn, too cowardly to protect his family.

 _I'm such a hypocrite…_

Still, I'd like to think if I lived a different life, having a wife and kids, I'd willing die to protect them. The last thing I'd do is hand them over on a fucking silver platter to a man who had not a single moral fiber in his entire body. I wouldn't allow harm to come their way in fear of worse repercussions on _my_ end.

 _I can't think about this anymore_...

When I eventually go back into the dining room, it's to find Tris on the phone and Christina making herself a to-go cup of coffee in the kitchen.

As I wait, I drink down the rest of my own coffee, which is now just barely warm enough to be drinkable. My attention, though, is on Tris, especially on her soft lips that I already have come to miss.

She catches me looking at her as she says goodbye to whoever she was talking to, but she smiles at me. "You tired of me yet?" she asks softly once her phone has been set down. Though she's still smiling, I catch some genuine concern etched into her expression.

"Never," I say honestly. "What about you? Have I scared you off yet?"

"I don't scare easily," she says factually. Her eyes are bright, warm with… affection? It makes me smile, regardless, too happy all of a sudden to care about anything other than the fact that we kissed. _We kissed!_

I want to kiss her again. I don't want to think about anything other than how incredible it felt being molded together like we are two halves of the same piece of art, finally being reunited.

We stare at each other again, not bothering to care how long, until her phone buzzes, breaking her out of her thoughts. "That's my dad," she sighs, her eyes falling to the floor. "He's meeting Christina and I at my car, so we have to go in a few minutes."

I can't deny I feel a little disappointed, but at the same time, I know I would have had to get home soon, anyway, if I wanted to get through all the paperwork Mr. Vega sent me.

"Fittings are in the morning," she continues, looking back up at me. "We're meeting at nine. I can text you the address."

I nod and mumble, "Yeah, thanks." It feels so awkward between us, with me lost trying to understand what's happening.

She looks like she's going to continue but Christina enters the room again, smiling smugly. "Ready to go, Tris?" she asks.

Tris bites her lip. "Almost. I was just talking to Tobias about tomorrow. Do you want to meet me at your car while I finish locking up?" she asks hopefully.

"Sure thing," Christina says airily, her knowing smirk taking over her face. "Nice to meet you, Tobias. See ya tomorrow," she says with a wave as she grabs her things and heads for the door.

Tris waits for her friend to be gone before she turns to me. "I don't have much time, but I wanted to say…" She pauses briefly, taking in a deep breath to collect herself. "About earlier… I honestly just don't know how to feel right now, or what to do about whatever it is that's happening. Like I said, I've never been in this situation before, what with only ever being with Eric and that hardly counts because it wasn't even _real_ , and…" She cuts herself off, willing her mind to focus, but I don't give her time to overthink it.

"Tris, I get it. This is all new to me, too. We did just meet yesterday," I laugh and thankfully she smiles in return. "How about we don't worry about it right now. We both have so much going on… I don't want this to be something that stresses you out. So, let's just say we're two unlikely friends who got stuck at an airport together."

She doesn't look relieved so much as accepting of the idea. "Maybe we can talk more tomorrow," she adds, and I can't help but agree.

"That sounds good."

We both stand there nodding awkwardly before Tris sighs and admits that she really has to go. We walk out together and start to head our separate ways when she stops and asks, "What if I decide I don't want to be just friends?"

My smile is impossible to contain. "I don't know, what if?" She giggles as she flushes beautifully. "We'll figure that part out when we get there," I reassure, giving her an honest answer.

 _I… just said… when…_

She's biting her lip, which probably means she caught on, too, and or because I'm flushing darker than she is. "Okay," she says simply before she waves goodbye. "See ya tomorrow, Four," she adds with a wink before ducking into the passenger seat of Christina's car.

As I'm headed home, I let out a deep sigh. Everything feels surreal. I kissed Tris. _I kissed Tris!_

Even better, she kissed me back, and she said she wanted to. That's all the matters to me right now.

Whatever happens from here, I need to will myself to just accept what a gift I've already received. This time spent with her is exactly that. I need to just be happy with what I get.

 _We'll see how long that lasts._

 **AN: Aaaand they kissed! Happy dance! I hope you all enjoyed reading that as much as I did writing it! (Not so much editing and stressing that it came out right. I'm such a perfectionist, it's actually a problem. It's a wonder I convince myself anything is ready to share haha).**

 **I was loving all the reviews of Chapter Seven, especially a couple of you who caught a hint or two that may or may not have been there. (How's that for vague?) I'm so excited for things to unfold and for you all to catch what other little hints I've dropped.**

 **Thank you all again for the abundance of support, and thank you to CP and MJ for their continued plot-building help and editing gifts for ensuring this story is the best it can be.**

 **-Willow**


	9. Chapter 9

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters do not belong to me. Characters and some ideas are based off Veronica Roth's series, as are any quotes used._

 _Rated M for language, adult situations, sensitive content, etc_

 **AN: This chapter contains sensitive content that may be upsetting to some readers, as it depicts cruelty and violence towards children, as well as other material. Please read with care**

Chapter Nine

I returned to a cold, dark house. Fortunately, Pitch was waiting for me, so that helped take my mind off the mayhem persisting in my head. He followed me happily, though I'm certain it had more to do with my carryout than my presence alone. Still, he's the best company I've ever had in this house, so I'm not complaining. This house holds more horrors than I care to subject myself to. It represents a lifetime of suffering, and being back is nothing but a reminder. Having an ally, even if he's just a cat, makes everything a little easier.

Once I turn on a few lights and get the fire going in the front room, it feels easier to relax a little. Marcus only used the fireplace for special guests, and in those cases, I rarely was in attendance, so there's no association with him. I head into the kitchen and pull out a piece of chicken from one of the small containers and start to shred it for Pitch. He meows loudly, circling my legs impatiently until I place a dish of it on the floor. He digs right in, swishing his long tail as he does.

I dish out my own dinner and go into the fridge to see if any drinks happen to be left, only finding an unopened carton of orange juice. I check the expiration date, and it says it should be fine, and after giving it a whiff, it seems to still be good. I fill a tall glass and chug almost the whole thing down without a further thought.

Turns out the orange juice wasn't okay, because it tastes foul. I pour the rest down the drain, including what's left in the carton. _Yeah, maybe not the smartest idea there, Tobias._ I get a fresh glass and fill it with water instead.

I sit on the carpet at the coffee table in the front room, facing towards the fireplace. I pull out the paperwork and start to read through it between bites. Once I'm finished eating, I push my plate out of the way and buckle down to start honing in on specifics.

Most of it is just signing over Marcus' investments, business, money, and any other shit that I don't care to remember to Mr. Vega and Andrew. He didn't pass on hardly any of it to me, and thank God for that. I never wanted any of it. The last words he had said to me the last time I was here were, "This house, and everything in it, has always been my gift to you. That's all you'll get."

I don't even want that. Sure, I'll take the money I get from selling it, if not to enjoy the satisfaction of selling the house four generations of Eatons have lived in. I'm the first Eaton man not to follow in the footsteps of those before him, and I feel selling this place is part of breaking the cycle. I'm a stubborn son of a bitch, and if I have to extinguish the Eaton name to end the cycle, I'll do it.

It's not even an hour later when exhaustion really hits me, accompanied by a massive headache and stomach ache, blurry vision, and major lightheadedness. I try to power through it, but another ten minutes on the same damn document proves the effort futile. Admitting defeat, I set an alarm for 4:30 a.m., giving me close to nine hours of sleep to work with, as well as time to finish the rest of the paperwork in the morning. Somehow, I pull myself together enough to prepare for bed, and making sure the fire is well out before I give in.

I stagger to the guest room some time later, stripping my shirt and jeans off sloppily and leaving them in a heap at the foot of the bed. I don't even bother with pajamas, I just stagger to the bed and collapse onto my stomach.

Despite the soothing pressure, my stomach continues to churn painfully, which only heightens the pounding in my head as the room spins around me. I'm so exhausted, sinking into the bed, I can't move. Sinking so deep, all I want is sleep, with eyes falling like they're made of lead, so close... gone.

The silence and stillness is soothing, like a cool blanket, and slowly, all the pain ebbs away until it's a blissful nothingness. It feels like it stretches for forever, and yet really only lasts for a blink of an eye before a harsh sound shatters it. I instinctively push myself into a sitting position as a rumbling, growling sound fills the room. It's a German Shepard mix, but it's an ugly, scarred creature with mangy fur, snarling in a deranged sort of way at the foot of the bed. _How the did that thing get in here?_

I glance around the room, not sure what I'm looking for, but am lucky to discover a giant hunk of cheese and a dagger sitting on the bedside table. My first initial thought is, "Don't touch what isn't yours," but it's not a voice that sounds like mine.

I flinch away from the sound of the voice I hate replaying in my head and of the snarling dog, staring at the dagger and the cheese, knowing both could just as well save me from what's inevitable. I'm wondering if I can be fast enough to grab the dagger before the dog attacks me, wondering if it's worth trying, when I hear a little girl squeal, "Puppy!"

She's small, probably two or three years old. Her blonde hair falls in wisps, curling underneath her ears where they've been tucked behind. She's wearing a simple black dress and grey tights with black and pink polka dots, but no shoes. Her big eyes are plastered on the dog, staring excitedly.

 _How did_ she _get in here? What is going on?!_

To my horror, the dog whips around, snarling at the tiny girl. She frowns, as if she's confused as to why the dog is growling at her, but not one bit scared of it. She tilts her head to the side a bit, staring at it in an inquisitive sort of way, before she seems to come to a conclusion. She slowly lies down flat on her stomach, her eyes focused on the ground, leaving her completely defenseless and exposed.

I ease off the bed, prepared to pounce on it if need be, but stop when I see the dog lower its head, panting near the girl's left ear. Then I watch it lick the side of her face, and she giggles like it's the funniest thing that has ever happened to her. She lifts her head, looking up at the dog that's now panting contentedly in front of her.

She gets up and settles in a w-sit, smiling happily as the dog props a paw on her knee and licks her face again. She giggles with glee, squirming like she's tickling under the dog's affection, but not at all bothered by it.

The little girl slowly stands up and reaches a hand out to pet it, and I want to scream out a warning, but she touches the animal's face before I can get words out, and surprisingly, the dog doesn't mind the touch. She smiles as she brushes her small, delicate fingers across the dog's fur.

"Tobias!" a voice bellows out of nowhere, and as if in slow motion, I can see the hairs on the back of the dog's neck rise and it's lips pull back in a snarl, while the child flinches from the voice, which only brings her closer to the dog's fangs.

I don't think, I just move as fast as I can towards the dog as it moves to strike, throwing my body weight forward and wrapping my arms around its torso just in time.

"Move!" I tell the little girl, and she leaps back as I fall to the floor on top of the dog. I feel its teeth graze my chin, a searing pain snagging my attention momentarily. The little girl screams as I'm sure blood starts to surface, and I watch as she runs out of the room.

"Tobias!" a voice bellows again, and I realize it's _Marcus_.

I'm tearing out of the room after the little girl before I can form a conscious thought. She's running down a long hallway, almost at the end. "Wait!" I call out, but she doesn't stop, but keeps running until she reaches the end of the hall. She's whipping around, trying to find someplace to go, but all there is left is an open window. There's nowhere she can go except-

She pulls herself up through the window, and I'm still a good twenty feet away. "Stop!" She lets go of the ledge and drops out of sight.

 _No, no, no, please, God, no, please…_

I'm at the window in seconds, throwing my head out expecting to see her broken body on the ground below, only to see something almost as horrifying. The girl had fallen out on a ledge not too far below the window, but was now crawling across a ladder precariously bridging an alleyway ten stories below. She's more than halfway across already, leaving no hope of getting her back on this side, so I simply move out onto the ledge so that I can hold onto the ends of the ladder in hopes she can keep her balance.

As my hands grip the last rung, I can start to make out the child's soft, melodic cries. The sound makes my chest hurt, like a knife has been thrust into my sternum. It's agony to listen to as she continues to crawl across, thankfully without too much problem. She gets to the other side and clambers into the other open window, disappearing from sight.

I consider turning back, hoping someone over there can take care of her because I can't do this, _I can't_. I could easily die trying to cross... But then I hear her high pitched scream of pure terror, and I know I have to follow her.

My heart pounds painfully, pure panic pulsing persistently through my veins. Climbing across like this is as good as a death wish, especially when _I really hate heights_. I swear, my teeth are going to crack right down the middle with how hard my jaw is set, inching across the ladder towards the building on the other side of the alley.

"Help!" I hear the girl cry out, and I'm almost there, just a few feet. _Slow and steady_ I tell myself on a loop, despite wanting to rush as fast as I can to get to her. _You can't save her if you're lying dead on the ground._

As soon as my fingers grasp the windowsill, I lose patience and practically vault myself into the room. It's plain and empty, other than a wooden chair and some rope, and the door is wide open. The little girl had to have gone through here…

The moment I cross the threshold, I feel something hard slam into my back, propelling me across a couple feet directly into a wall, and then I feel something hit my legs. Looking down, it's the small little girl, looking up at me with big, blue eyes. She seems a little scared, but at least she's not crying.

I can't even try to reassure her when I feel the walls start pressing inward, and the ceiling starts to come down. I hate confinement, more than I hate heights, and I hate it in here, I _hate_ it in here. The girl whimpers, clinging to me, now, the only thing keeping me present in the moment. The walls keep coming until I have no choice but to scoop the child into my arms and crouch.

Two small, cold hands press on either side of my face, and suddenly, my eyes are met with piercing ones; bright, fierce eyes that hardly belong to a child, and yet, here she is, curled up in my arms as the walls press in. She stares for the longest time before she whispers, "This is for our own good," like she's said it a million times before.

My chest tightens tenfold, stomach flipping, struggling to purge the toxins of those words as they reverberate in the confinement of this room and of my head, where they burn into the grey matter. _No, no, no, stop it._

Suddenly, the girl screams, "I'm not scared of you!" and the walls break apart around us, leaving us in a plain room. The little girl scrambles away from me before I can even catch my breath, running towards the only door left in the room. I know I should follow her, but I'm glued to the spot when my eyes fall upon a woman standing in the corner. She's standing there, staring blankly at me as if us being here isn't the least bit out of the ordinary.

I start to move closer to her, but I don't get more than a few steps before I hear the little girl scream again. This time, when I turn, I see her, staring face to face with the muzzle of a gun. To my horror, the man holding the gun is none other than Mr. Vega.

"Mr. Eaton." he says cheerfully, like my presence just made his whole day. His eyes drift over to the small girl, watches as her lip quivers in fear of the gun just inches from her face. With a smile pulling at his lips, he states, "You know what to do."

I watch as he cocks the gun, his aim fixed on the little girl. She's frozen to where she stands, and I _don't_ know what to do, I-

The woman in the corner steps forward, holding out a gun by the barrel. When I don't take it, she takes another step forward, only leaving a foot between me and her outstretched hand. She looks me in the eye without feeling, like she's prepared for what she knows is to come.

"Do it. I won't ask you again," Mr. Vega says with smirk, pressing the gun into the little girl's forehead. I see her eyes flit to mine, pleading, and my stomach churns. _I can't let her die, I can't let her die, I can't let her die…_

Slowly, I reach out and take the gun from the woman, the cold metal causing my hand to shake. She smiles faintly at me, her green eyes oddly warm and gentle considering she handed me a gun, and Mr. Vega is asking me to _shoot her_. My heart pounds as the woman nods her head once, then taps her chest with her forefinger, right above her heart.

My hand is shaking too much to aim well, causing Mr. Vega to laugh. "Come on, Eaton, or the little girl is going to paint the walls." He pushes the gun against her head again, and she whimpers.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the woman, my head starting to spin. She simply smiles, and nods. I aim the gun, right at her chest where she pointed, before looking over to the little girl, whose eyes are staring at me. "Look away," I tell her, and the moment she does, I pull the trigger.

Everything slows down, and yet passes by in no time, between the recoil of the gun throwing me back, the sound of the blast piercing the air, the woman's body hitting the floor with a sickening thud, the small girl's high-pitched scream reverberating off the walls… Mr. Vega just laughs as he looks at the woman's body, but I can't look, I can't stand to see her. I don't know where I hit her but I did, and I can't, _I can't…_

The little girl takes off running again, and Mr. Vega doesn't make any attempt to stop her. "Wait!" I scream after her, but she doesn't stop. Even though I just want to get the hell out of here, I can't leave her. I have to get the girl out of here, too, so I chase after her, down another long hallway. I see her go into the last door on the left, and I follow just seconds behind her.

The room I enter seems familiar, though I can't place from where, and standing in the middle of the room is the little girl, staring up into the dark eyes of Marcus. He's looking at her like he looked at me, and I can't let this happen. _Don't do it, Marcus, please!_

His fist gets to her before I can. She cries out the most heart-wrenching sound I've ever heard as the impact meets her side. Though he winds back to strike again, he never gets to follow through. It hurts like a bitch, my fists pounding repeatedly against his face, his body, but everything has gone red as the child cries pitifully. My heart is pounding so heavily and rapidly, I can hardly breath over the chaos as my fists meet their mark once, twice, too many times to keep count.

Marcus disappears suddenly, too suddenly even with being lost in my rage. Waves of confusion crash over me, though it's dread that floods my stomach.

"It's too late, Tobias," I hear Marcus say from behind me. Turning around, I see him standing over the still body of the little girl. Blood leaves trails down the side of her face and from her nose. I can see deep bruising on what little skin is visible. She was too fragile, too helpless to stand a chance against him...

Marcus starts to laugh, like the horror is amusing. "Look at what you did, Tobias."

He points to my hands, and I can see the blood and bruising, but as I look at Marcus again, I realize he isn't harmed. He doesn't bear a single mark on him, not so much a blemish. _How?_

"What did you do?" I growl.

He grins, pleased with himself. "It's not what I did, my boy, but what you _didn't_ do."

My mind flashes to everything I know about Marcus: the crimes he committed or covered up, the terrible people he aided or defended, the way he treated people on a whole… all things I have held for years. I've never said anything to anyone, not so much being afraid of what would happen, but dreading its occurrence. I knew he followed through on threats, but it never possessed me to think what would happen if I didn't say anything.

My eyes find the body of the little girl, motionless still, and it all becomes clear. _I did this. I killed her… I killed an innocent child. I… I killed an innocent woman to protect her, and now she's dead too?!_

All of this is my fault… has always been.

"Looks like you're an Eaton after all." He nods down at the little girl, looks over my hands before he starts to laugh so hard he grips his sides. My hands shake violently, and the room sways, everything blurred as the horror draws tears from my eyes, from the innermost well of dread I carry within me. It's one that was carefully constructed by Marcus, and it turns out, not the only successful creation.

I'm just like him. I'm just like Marcus.

He's still laughing, but now blood spills over his lips, onto his white button up dress shirt, quickly drenching the front. He merely laughs and laughs until he's coughing up too much blood, too much, and the little girl is so cold, and-

I puke like I've never puked before. It feels like a knife is gutting me as my stomach violently rejects everything it contains all over the floor. The putrid orange juice only triggers the gag reflex even more, before I'm left dry heaving endlessly. There's nothing left to give, but it's not enough, it's not.

I killed her. I killed the little girl. It's my fault. She's gone because of me. Oh, God, what am I going to do?

I feel something soft press into my side, and between heaves, I glance over to find Pitch rubbing his face into my rib cage. When our eyes meet, he gives an indignant meow before he walks toward the door.

After another five minutes of heaving, and five minutes of calm, staring at the sick on the floor, I decide I need to face the music. There's the broken and bruised body of the little girl and probably Marcus, lying dead just feet away from me…

...except they aren't. There are no bodies on the floor, no traces of blood, not even a hint of disturbance. Glancing at my hands, I'm shocked to see no blemishes, no hint of violence. _What the fuck is happening?_

I get up to look around the room. Somehow, I ended up back in the guest bedroom I've been staying in, though I know that's now where we were, and yet I'm here now, with everything as I left it. No little girl, no Marcus.

I groan as the headache returns full forces, a splitting, sharp pain that begs for relief. Somehow, I manage to stagger towards the door, determined to get some aspirin, but I'm blind-sided by a shift in the room, crashing hard into the ground as everything seems to disappear for a minute, for two, until it's all faded to black…

 **AN: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up. Life has been crazy! I will still be keeping up with at least weekly updates. I'm curious to see what you all think of this chapter, and what this means for Tobias and the future of this story. All I can and will say is there's something (or some things, who knows?) that is/are really important in this chapter.**

 **Special shoutout, again, to CP and MJ for proof-reading these chapters and offering me feedback, as well as helping build some ideas for the story. They're wonderful people. Also, you awesome reviewers and followers. The support has been so appreciated. All the feedback means so much to mean and helps me continue to make the story better.**

 **-Willow**


	10. Chapter 10

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters do not belong to me. Characters and some ideas are based off that series._

 _Rated M for language, sexual content, depictions of abuse, etc.  
_ _ **THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS CONTENT OF A SEXUAL NATURE. Please read only if you're of an appropriate age.**_

Chapter Ten

When my phone starts to ring, the last person I expect it to be is Tris, but that only thrills me more. _If I'm going to lose sleep for anyone, I'm happy it's her._

Her voice sounds different on the phone. It's low and a little raspy. I can practically see her lying in bed, with her sleepy eyes and bedhead as I hear her ask, "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"I haven't even gone to bed yet. I had this feeling I should stay up, and now it turns out I know what I was waiting for."

Her giggle is soft on the other end of the line, but it's loud enough for me to enjoy. Her laughter is always so melodic. She is a song all on her own. "Was it worth waiting for?"

"Definitely. Talking to you has become one of my favorite things."

"Hm, is that so?"

"Yep." If she were here, I'm certain she'd be blushing. _I love that… maybe a little too much._ "I'd have said it's my favorite, but _kissing_ you has become my new favorite thing."

She's laughing shyly again. A warm, antsy feeling settles into my gut. All I seem to be able to think about in this moment is her… the feeling of her lips molded to mine, her hands on me and tangled in my hair, her warmth under my own fingertips, her soft, sweet smelling skin…

"Mine too," I hear her say softly, like it's a secret for my ears only. "That's why I couldn't sleep," she admits. "All I can think about is what it'd be like to kiss you again, without interruption…"

Her voice trails off, but my attention is sharp, honed in on her words. I can't help thinking about the prospect…

"Does that bother you? I can stop if you want…" My heart starts to race as my mind starts to wander, thinking about what she's implying. _She's daydreaming… about kissing me?!_

"I absolutely do not mind. Of course I'd prefer to actually be kissing you right now, but seeing as you're tucked in bed miles away, I guess I'll have to settle..."

I revisit the mental image of her in bed, though this time, it's not quite as innocent. _I wonder what she wears to bed… or what she doesn't wear?_

"What if you didn't have to settle?" Her voice is light and teasing, and _goddamn_ does it do things to me. Now, all I can think about is how much I want her close to me. I want to be close enough to figure out whatever the hell it is she wears as perfume, so I can know why she always smells so good. I want to be able to hold onto her by her hips, so that she can ease into my kiss.

"I'd be on cloud nine if you were here right now," I tell her, forcing myself to focus.

"Well, then you should see who's at your doorstep. It's a bit cold out here."

I don't think I've ever moved so fast in my entire life, flying out of the bedroom, down hallways and the staircase until I've got the door open. It's as exciting as Christmas morning when I open that door to find Tris waiting, her smile illuminating her face. She's wearing her long, red jacket, but it's wrapped tightly around her, so I can't see what else she's wearing.

It's hard to say how long I stand there, staring at her before she giggles and asks, "Could I come in?"

I step aside to allow her to come inside. As she passes me, I can smell whatever it is she wears as perfume and the mystery sends my head spinning. _Keep it together, Tobias_. Once the door is shut and locked once again, I turn to see her watching me. Her eyes are bright, practically aflame with excitement. _That look… is going to be the death of me._

She takes a step closer to me, her eyes never leaving mine. We share a long moment in each other's eyes before a wave of uncertainty crosses them. She bites her bottom lip, second guessing the effect she's having on me.

"Sorry… there's just not words for this." My eyes wander her body. Despite it being so cold out, she's not wearing pants or anything to protect her from the cold. She already seems to have kicked off her shoes, leaving her adorably barefoot. Her fingers find the tie of her jacket, though her eyes stay on mine. "Do you mind if I take this off? It's a lot warmer in here than I expected."

All I can do is watch her fingers move, watch her eyes flash teasingly a she works through the knot, watch as she slowly slips the garment off her shoulders. She's left in a tight fitting black dress that begs for my attention. The fabric clings to every contour of her body, and my eyes seem drawn to every curve and valley. The neckline is low, exposing her raven tattoos and more of her chest than I have ever seen. A hint of black lace from her bra or maybe a camisole peeks out of the the top. Something about it makes the skin above it look so enticing.

"Like what you see?" she asks softly, looking up at me through her lashes. The effect of her look shoots straight down the center of my body like white hot electricity, tensing up every bit of me. _Holy shit…_

My heart rate might as well have quadrupled, the way it's struggling in my chest. I hadn't realized I was staring so intently at her until she mentioned it, but now that I've seen her, looking away is the last thing on my mind.

My lack of ability to reply must be answer enough for her, because she responds with the sexiest smirk as she turns away from me and begins going upstairs. The dress hugs her hips and her backside so perfectly, leaving very little to the imagination. Her hips sway in such a tempting way, luring me in and baiting me to follow. I can't move, though, for I'm rooted to the spot as I watch her ascend. Her dress only goes so far down her thighs already, but each step sends the fabric even higher and higher, exposing inch after inch of her soft, creamy skin.

About halfway up, she turns and looks down at me, her eyes bright with excitement and anticipation. _This can't be real… but holy shit! Sign me up for more of this!_ "Are you coming, handsome?"

"Not yet," I reply smugly, not giving a shit about how forward that may have sounded to her.

She just laughs, biting her lip to tease me further as she continues to climb the stairs. Only when she's reached the top do my feet cooperate, racing after her in a frenzy.

By the time I catch up to her, she's already inside the guest bedroom, facing away from me. I watch her pull her hair over her left shoulder slowly, or maybe everything has just slowed down as she exposes the back of her slender neck and the top of her back. My eyes stay focused on her as she reaches back for the zipper, only for her fingers to _just_ miss the mark.

She turns, just enough to face me, her bottom lip caught nervously. The question swims in her eyes, but I think a bit of nervousness has won her over suddenly.

With a tentative step forward, I nod my head a little; an offer. She returns it with a smile, turning back around; an answer. I don't think, just follow the command she's given. I only hesitate for a second before I slowly start to unzip her dress. It follows the entire length of her spine, exposing the flawless expanse of skin that I want to ravish. _Patience, Tobias. One step at a time._ Slowly, I pull it down, down, down, until it stops right at the hint of even more black lace underneath her dress.

 _She's wearing… lace panties. Oh, God…_

Excitement courses through me as she steps forwards and drops the useless fabric to the floor, leaving her in only her bra and panties. _Damn_. My eyes have a fucking field day, taking in every glorious inch of her I can see. Even though she's facing away from me, the view is still exhilarating. There is something about the way the lace veils her that is so sexy, like she's a present I get to unwrap. _This really is like Christmas morning._ I can't wait to get my hands on her…

Then she turns around, and I'm frozen in pure amazement. She's not necessarily voluptuous, but she is nothing short of exquisite. Through the shape of the lace, I know that when I touch her, when I move my hands over her, she will fill my grasp as if intentionally designed. I know she will be soft and warm, and that the connection will set us ablaze with something neither of us will be able to contain.

"It's your turn," she says, pulling my eyes back to hers. She's watching me intently, like she's determined not to miss a moment.

I've never undressed with someone _watching_ me before, but if I could watch her undress and find it sexy, maybe there might be something to it? _Just follow her lead, Tobias_. I start by kicking off my shoes, keeping my eyes plastered to hers. Then I pull off my shirt, making sure our eye contact holds for as much of it as possible. I throw it clear across the room, which makes her giggle, though the sound dies out fast enough as her eyes rack up and down my abdomen and chest.

She breaks into a satisfied smile, her eyes darkening the longer she looks at me. After a minute, she steps forward, close enough that I could touch her, but my brain doesn't seem to have enough blood flow anymore to initiate the movement. Her eyes dart down briefly, before meeting mine. "Let's get you more comfortable," she suggests, and then I feel her hands on the button of my jeans, slowly unbuttoning them. She keeps her eyes locked with mine as I feel her slowly drag the zipper down, relieving a significant amount of pressure.

"Is that better?" she asks me as the feel of her fingertips ghost back up the way they had gone down, continuing up to my navel before descending back down again. _Not anymore_. Because she's a fucking mind reader, she cocks her head to the side, reading my grimace as one of discomfort. Her eyes are full of determination when she smiles at me.

A shuddering breath escapes my chest as I feel her pull my jeans down all the way to my ankles, relieving even more pressure. Only, I don't find relief. I never knew you could hunger for a person so much, to need someone's closeness, but with the pull I feel towards her, it's hard to deny, now. I want to smell the sweetness of her skin, taste her lips as I accost her with kisses, hear every dynamic of sound she creates, feel every inch of warmth that she possesses, see every response to what she's experiencing…

The feeling of her hand on me rips an agonized groan from my throat, even if it's over the fabric of my boxer briefs. My eyes fall closed as the feeling of her and my pulse seem to take over. The throbbing rhythm is insistent, like being at a party with music cranked so high, the bass shakes you. It reverberates through my bones and my brain and every nerve, never ceasing because her movements never cease.

I can feel myself twitch as she stops herself, and our eyes meet again. Her face is flushed, her eyes ablaze with need. Her fingers trace the waistband of my briefs, pouting her lip ever so slightly as if the obstruction is her own personal kryptonite. As her fingers return to just below my navel, she snaps the elastic playfully, looking into my eyes for permission.

Without thinking, I decide to throw caution to the wind, pulling the last scrap of clothing off. A part of me knows I should be nervous about what she might think of me, nervous about being so exposed, nervous about what we're about to do… but this is Tris. She doesn't scare me one bit.

She puts all anxieties to rest when she looks down at me. Her expression is one of awe, and something reminiscent of excitement, though that does little justice to what it expresses to me. I've never been gazed at like this before, and judging by her expression, there's nothing disappointing in her eyes. _If she's happy, I'm happy_.

Happy is a laughable word in the grand scheme of things; in comparison to the words I could use to describe how she makes me feel. I figured out pretty fast that I wanted her, but _this_ is something more than just the physical drive. It's about Tris. I want her.

She is a force that controls every part of me. She is the component that has wriggled itself to every crevice of my existence, and it feels right. Everything feels right when she's a part of it.

And now I get to show her.

Now that there's nothing left to remove from my body, all that's left is her bra and panties. _God_ , she's exquisite. I could marvel at her all day… but there are so many things I'd rather do instead.

My right hand meets her hip and slowly travels up her side, over her ribs, my thumb just brushing the side of her breast, albeit through the lacey bra. It journeys up, over her neck, before sliding back into her hair, clinging to the silky locks like a lifeline as I draw her mouth to mine.

The anticipation explodes in my gut as our lips finally meet, and I don't hesitate for an instance as I immediately plunder her mouth. I've never kissed her like this before, but she sighs into it approvingly, eagerly reciprocating. She tastes sweet, like oranges, smells like something flowery. _What_ is _it? Fuck… I'll figure that out later._

My other hand joins the mix, smoothing over her hip and back over the small of her back. I pull her in close to me, leaving nothing but her last two garments to separate us. Her skin is so soft, so warm, my fingertips tingle as they move against her, eager for every new inch of unexplored territory. I want to map every hill and valley, travel the lines of her shape, discover every wonder she contains.

One of her hands mirrors my own in grabbing hold of my hair while the other smooths over my abs, my chest, over my shoulder, up and down my back. The touch has me reeling, hyper aware of her flesh pebbling with goosebumps.

 _More…_

My hand travels up from her lower back until I feel the clasps of her bra. It takes a few attempts, seeing as I've never done this before, let alone one handed, but sure enough, I feel the garment slacken around her. Without breaking the kiss, I help her out of it, throwing it blindly behind me. My hands find her hips again, slowly smoothing up her back as my lips follow her jawline, venturing down her neck.

She sighs loudly and it spurs a need to look at her; to see her. My lips travel over her collarbone and down the center of her body, ghosting over the valley between her breasts, down the line of her abdomen, only hesitating once my lips find the top of her lace panties.

"May I?" I ask, my fingers playing with the waistline a little. My eyes look up to her face to find her biting the shit out of her lip. She must have been in a serious daze, because those blues are glazed over and her breathing is heavy.

"Please," she whispers. _Did she just-_

A godawful wailing drills through my head, effectively pulling the plug on my dream. As the wailing persists, every feeling of bliss and need is pushed out of mind as aches and pains replace them slowly, crashing over me in waves. I feel helpless against the insistence of the motion, and it only feeds the throbbing headache that commands attention. No groaning protest of mine subdues the confusion, the sound, the pain, so with everything I have in this moment, I manage to pull myself into a seated position.

My eyelids are heavy, anchors clinging to the peace of blissful ignorance. _Were you just passed out on the floor?_ It's almost hard to know I've opened my eyes, seeing as it's still so dark out. The only tell is the faint glow from the nightstand, where my phone lays. _Is that an alarm? What time is it?_

My hands press into the hardwood floor, a poor attempt at grounding myself in the moment. _Goddamnit, Tobias, you did pass out on the floor._ Somewhere in the night, I ended up in front of the bedroom door. There's the distinct scent of sick lingering among the scent of what I can only guess is _me_. I get up off the floor and gingerly and make my way to the bedside table to turn off the alarm that's still blaring.

The bright light is blaring, as good as burning holes into my retinas as I try to read the time. It's 4:36 a.m. _Why am I awake?_

My vision is still pretty hazy, but not as much as my head seems to be. Carefully, I slowly make my way down the hall to the linen closet to get some towels and cleaner to clean up the vomit, which takes torturously long considering I can't help but gag.

Once the floor is cleaned up, I decide to take a cold shower. I turn the water up as low as my body will tolerate, willing it to clear my mind as much as it wakes me up and cleanses me.

My hands are starting to prune before I give up trying to remember anything that's happened since leaving Tris' house yesterday. The moment I step out of the shower, I resolve myself to give up trying to remember, in hopes that it'll just come back to me after I've woken up a bit all on it own.

I move slowly, like I had getting ready yesterday, but this time it's from the effects of restless sleep, sleeping on a hard floor, and excessive vomiting. It's nearly six before I even start heading for the kitchen in search of coffee…

...only to be reminded that Marcus never drank coffee. _This is going to be a long day._

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I'm happy to see a text from Tris. I'm a little surprised she's up so early, seeing as she didn't get a chance to sleep much yesterday morning, but I'm definitely not complaining. In fact, just seeing her picture has my heart racing excitedly.

 _Tris: All the bridesmaids and groomsmen are meeting for breakfast before the fitting. Did you want to join?_

 _Tobias: It depends…_

Even though I'm grinning to myself, I know I'm pushing it, I'm sure of it, but I can't resist teasing her a little. I'm fighting back a seriously restless feeling that I can't name.

 _Tris: ...on?_

I can't fight back my smirk.

 _Tobias: Never said I'd tell you._

 _Tris: But you will._

 _Tobias: Hmmm, is that so?_

 _Tris: Yep._

 _Tobias: Are you implying I can't resist you or something?_

If I hadn't already kissed her, I'd be a mess waiting for her response, but considering how I practically jumped her yesterday, I think I'll be in the clear. When I read her response, it turns out she was thinking something along the same lines.

 _Tris: If I remember correctly, you more than implied that yesterday afternoon in my dining room._

 _Tobias: You remember correctly._

My cheeks are warm, thinking about her lips, her hands on my chest, the one smoothing over my skin and grasping at my hair… I need a distraction before I embarrass myself.

 _Tobias: What's the story with the breakfast?_

 _Tris: See? Told you I'd get you to talk._

 _Tobias: Hey, didn't admit or agree to anything yet._

 _Tris: We'll see._

I can't hold back a laugh at her response.

 _Tobias: So, this breakfast…_

Pitch gives a loud hiss as I see him walk into the kitchen, his orange eyes fixed on me expectantly. "Oh, you're assuming there's more chicken?" He meows in response, which amuses the hell out of me. "You would be correct," I tell him, as if he's been talking to me.

I fix him another bowl of shredded chicken while I wait for Tris' answer, watching him devour it happily. I don't think he eats as regularly as he ought to, but still enough to keep him going. Fresh meat, though, is probably something he rarely gets, if ever.

By the time the text comes, I've already got his dish cleaned and put away and the counters cleaned from last night's mess. Though I may be pushing the boundaries I was raised with, I'm nearly compulsive in my own routines of cleanliness.

 _Tris: Most of us have yet to meet everyone. Even I haven't met all the bridesmaids yet. There's eighteen of us, including my brother, his fiancee, and the two of us. The girl hosting it just wants everyone to "build rapport."_

 _Tobias: Like… socialize? Be personable? Make friends? You realize you're talking to me, right?_

 _Tris: Oh, hush. You didn't seem to have a problem yesterday or the night before that._

 _Tobias: That's because I was with you._

She doesn't answer right away, leaving me to my thoughts. Only as I look around do they turn sour, with memories surfacing from my childhood. Flashes of my life with Marcus anchor me in a familiar way as the memories roll like a home movie...

… memories of Marcus threatening to put my hand on hot burners of the stove whenever I did something he considered selfish, of Marcus grabbing the nearest utensil to slap the back of my hands if I didn't do something _his_ way, of the times Marcus forced me to kneel on rice for upwards of an hour if I went against a direct order…

An incoming text pulls me out of remembering my history, the past that can't seem to let go of me. Or maybe I can't let go. Either way-

 _Tris: I'll be with you today._

 _Tobias: I mean I was just with you. Now I have to share._

 _Tris: I'm pretty sure there won't be much competition for my attention, so I think you'll be just fine._

 _Tobias: As much as I wish that were true, I think you highly underestimate what people see in you._

 _Tris: But you already knew that._

 _Tobias: That I did… So, that leaves me to wonder…_

Something inside me presses to leave her hanging. If I had to guess, it's the part of me that's been heavily influenced by the many years of knowing Zeke. I don't quite understand the root reasoning for doing this until I get her almost immediate text back.

 _Tris: Wonder..?_

It suddenly occurs to me that our quick back and forth means I have her complete attention. _I wonder what she's doing right now… It's so early in the morning. Maybe she's still in bed?_

The mental image of Tris bundled up in soft bedding that smells faintly of her, messy hair, wearing _God knows what…_

Redirect.

 _Tobias: Well, I already know you're, what did Lynn say, a beautiful genius philanthropist? Not to mention stubborn, feisty, per-cep-tive… but I'm curious to see what other surprises there are when it comes to you. Will I get to see any more today?_

She doesn't respond for a long time. Like, so long my heart has doubled in speed out of sheer anxiety.

 _Tris: It depends…_

 _Tobias: ...on?_

 _Tris: Whether or not there will really be bottomless mimosas._

I bust out laughing. God, I could love this girl.

 _Whoa there, Tobias. Take it down a notch or twelve._

 _Tobias: Forget mimosas. Will there be coffee?_

 _Tris: Ha! I knew you'd tell me. And yes, there will be coffee. Not sure if it will be as good as the stuff my dad gets, but it won't be like… instant coffee._

 _Tobias: That would be a deal breaker._

I can practically hear her musical laughter, and I can't help but wonder what her laughter would sound like in this house, echoing off the walls and tile floors, warming the drafty rooms. I wonder if something as beautiful as her joy could exist in a place of horror and make it something more.

 _Tris: Especially with being up at this hour._

 _Tobias: Tell me about it. Why are you up so early? Surely wedding stuff could wait._

 _Tris: Nothing wedding related. Woke up around 4:30 and couldn't get back to sleep._

Something thrilling shoots through me, bright and insistent in my gut. The grin that accompanies only heightens the feeling. My head is still hazy and I can't be sure what I'm feeling, other than it being good.

 _Tobias: I had an alarm that woke me up, but I can't remember what the alarm was waking me for, so now I'm just up._

 _Tris: Aw, well, can't help ya there, Four. Last I heard, you had a date with some paperwork._

It hits like a freight train, effectively knocking my center of gravity. Flashes of the night before hit me, of sitting in front of the roaring fire, the endless stack of paperwork, getting hit with exhaustion, and then…

A pair of big eyes flash in my mind, as quick as a camera's shutter, but I know they belong to the little girl. Her screams echo in my mind as if she were beside me again. I can practically still feel her small hands on my face, trying to keep _me_ calm.

Then I remember… remember her small form, nothing but a heap on the floor, her limbs as limp as a rag doll's. The red of her blood vividly stains my vision, tainting the world around me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice tells me I didn't actually do anything. There wasn't really a little girl, no woman that I shot, no Mr. Vega pressing a gun to the head of a toddler… All of it was nothing more than a nightmare, a hallucination, some sick combination of the two. While no blood actually coats my hands, I'm reminded of a lesson drilled into me for as long as I can remember...

 _His fingers dig into the sides of my neck, sending a sharp tingling down my spine and extremities. The more I wince, the harder he squeezes, pushing me forward until we reach the room he wants._

 _It's supposed to be a bedroom, but all that's inside is a full length mirror, a dresser, and wooden chair. I know what he's going to do, know it like I know the back of my hand, but I can't give in, I can't._

 _"Do I need to give you an extra lesson, Tobias?" he growls, pushing me forward by the grip on my neck until he lets me slip out of his grasp. It's not a reprieve; it's ritual. I do as I know, because the alternative just doesn't seem worth it._

 _As I pull off my shirt and grip the back of the chair, I hear him take off his belt and take heavy footsteps to go stand behind me._

 _"Look at me," he demands, his voice cold and apathetic._

 _My eyes meet his in the reflection of the mirror, so much like my own. I wish it provided me comfort, but all it seems to do is make me feel like he might be right when he says he's doing what's best for me._

 _"You are an Eaton, and you will meet the potential I have designed for you, Tobias. There is nothing more important that living up to your name. You have to earn this blood you possess, boy." He coils one end of the belt around his hand, so that his grip will not falter. "Drop for drop." And with that, he lashes out._

Every beat of my heart slams against my chest, drumming against my eardrums, drowning out memory after memory that accost me; memories of Marcus' beatings and conditioning, his cruelty, the life he made for me, all drowning out reason and safety and hope and everything good…

My phone starts to ring from on top of the counter, silencing everything outside of it for a hollow second. Glancing down, I can see the radiant smile that belongs to Tris. It simultaneously calms me and fills me with panic. She has already found ways to comfort me before, so that's the association I have. The panic, however, stems out of a fear of myself.

I intend to let it ring, to let it go to voicemail, but then an image of her with her lip trapped between her teeth, her phone held to her ear as she waits for me to answer comes to mind. I imagine the look on her face if I don't answer would be one of disappointment, her eyes dimming as she hears it go to voicemail. The image makes my chest ache. _I can't…_

"Hello?" My voice is scratchy, raw like I'd been screaming.

"Tobias?" Her voice sounds high-pitched, like she's worked up.

"Yeah?" I don't want her to hear the torment in my voice, the horrors playing in my head, the war that's raging within, but I'm not sure anymore if I can hide things from her.

I hear her let out a sigh of relief. "Hey," she says, her voice returning to her usual tone. "Sorry, I just, after all the texts I sent and no response, I just, I don't know, I-"

"Texts? I only got the one, and I just got distracted, was just about to reply."

I'm met with a tense silence that spans several seconds before she slowly says, "Oh… Uh, I… Did…" Her voice wavers slightly, so subtle I almost miss it. "Did you get the address?"

My stomach flips uncomfortably. "What address?"

Another silence. "I… I texted you the address. For the fittings. Everyone is getting together in a few minutes, but you could still make it in time for breakfast, if you want."

"I thought that wasn't for a few hours?"

Again with the silence, the longest yet, and when she speaks, her words are slow and measured. "Everyone is almost here." My head throbs painfully as I wrack my brain. I thought this started at nine? "Marlene decided to meet a half hour early before breakfast, to get acquainted."

"Oh… I just remember you saying nine," I get out.

"Tobias, where are you?" she asks, her voice wavering.

If she had started with this question, I'd have thought nothing of it, but seeing as she's asking now, I know better. "Tris, what's going on?"

She sighs, defeated. "I was trying to figure that out. You never texted me back from earlier, or any of the other texts, for that matter. I thought maybe I had said something or-"

"What?" I'm so confused, my head could explode. "Wait, just give me a minute, okay?" I hear her murmur a response before I pull my phone away to go into my messages. It's only then that I see the time.

7:57

My heart hammers against my chest as I discover several messages she had sent. Swearing under my breath, I return to the phone call. "The texts are there, I just missed them," I say vaguely.

"Are you okay?" she asks tentatively.

"I'll be okay. I'm on my way out the door, now," I say.

She hesitates to answer, but does with a simple, "Okay. Drive safely." She hangs up before I can even acknowledge it.

I swear again, frustrated with myself and whatever is happening right now. This isn't the first time I've lost track of time, lost in memories, but usually I can figure it out on my own. Not to mention my overall demeanor was hostile towards Tris, and she hardly deserves that. Sometimes, I don't know how to rain it in, but it doesn't excuse it a bit.

 _This just goes to show how much of an Eaton I am…_

I grab the folder of paperwork and stuff it in a briefcase that has some other documents of my own, and hurry out to the car, plug in the address Tris sent me into my GPS and start toward a house in Wicker Park. It's only about a twenty minute drive, which means I'll at least be on time for breakfast, though my stomach is so rocky, I'm not sure I have any interest in food.

I'm plagued by flashes of the nightmare from last night and of my past, all twisting and tangling together. Marcus raised me in a cruel, callous way in hopes I'd become like him. He had said it worked for him and his father, and that he would do whatever it took to ensure it worked for me.

There's no denying I was influenced by it. I have learned to put trust in no one, to focus on self preservation, to default to anger. I'm sure it's more blatant to others, but I know by the way people act around me that I'm cut from the same cloth. Even though I've not hurt anyone yet, doesn't mean I won't.

As my thoughts drift to Tris, I'm plagued with the idea of revealing that darkness to her, let alone it raining down on her. If I ever hurt her, I'd _never_ forgive myself. Not only would I have become the monster I've worked so hard to destroy, and hurt the person I care about most in the process.

What if I can't promise myself I won't hurt her? What if I _am_ like Marcus? What if getting closer to Tris puts her in danger?

 _I don't know..._

Am I willing to chance it?

 _Not a chance… unless… she wants to…_

I guess, at this point, it's up to her. We will just have to see…

 **AN: Ah, Tobias. His own worst enemy sometimes... What do you all think he's going to decide? And what about Tris? What do you think is going through her head? We shall see... as well as meet all the bridesmaids and groomsmen, Caleb... so much fun to come! And I hope you all enjoyed the last minute addition of that dream. You can thank CP and MJ for encouraging me to write it, as well as editing it and work shopping it with me. You can also thank BK2U for the demand as well.**

 **And on that note, again, you all are amazing. These reviews are just the best. I won't lie, the one I got this morning that said "I'm just gonna say wow. Like wow." has me laughing nervously like a hyena, but I love it. Y'all keep me on my toes, pushing me to work hard and make this story better. I'm so honored that many of you leave reviews on almost every chapter, offering your thoughts and feedback. It means so much to me.**

 **I have reached the most hectic season of my life, so I'm most likely only going to be able to update once a week for a little while. If I can post more, I will. Thank you all for your patience and encouragement! Stay awesome!**

 **-Willow**


	11. Chapter 11

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters do not belong to me. Characters and some ideas are based off Veronica Roth's series, as are any quotes used._

 _Rated M for language, adult situations, possible upsetting situations, etc_

Chapter Eleven

As I get to the front door of the house, I realize just how unprepared I am for this. The after effects of getting ill, the nightmare, the flashbacks, and the loss of time, all crammed into the past twelve hours, weighs heavily on my consciousness, leaving me riddled with an overwhelming need to escape. I feel the bars closing in, the threat of being trapped, though I know it's hardly justifiable in regards to my plight. If anyone seems to be trapped, it's Tris…

...Speaking of Tris, she said there would be a lot of people here, including her brother. I need to be on top of things, focus on keeping cool and presentable. Not an easy task when the images of murdered innocents lingers at the forefront, or when horrifying memories roll like home movies. Add in that Tris is here and I've hit the gold mine of being unready. Because I actually care about her, and I have no idea what to do, this whole situation looks a bit dismal.

Somehow, I work up the nerve to knock on the door, and thankfully, it's Christina who answers. She doesn't look as smug as when I first met her. If anything, she looks like she's about .5 seconds away from throwing in the towel, so I'm not sure what to expect, especially when she gives me a nervous look.

"Hi, Christina," I try to greet like I normally would, but it comes out feeble.

"Tobias," she starts, closing the door behind me once I've stepped past her. "Before you go in there, I need to tell you, Tris-"

"Oh my God, who is _this_?!" a voice gushes from the entryway to the next room. It belongs to a tall, curvaceous woman with long dark hair that looks like it probably took her hours to accomplish. She's wearing a low-cut, form-fitting purple dress that stops a good six inches above the knee, leaving too little to the imagination for me to be truly comfortable looking at her, though that could also be because of the way she's looking at me. Her eyes linger on my torso for more than anyone with dignity would dare.

 _Who am I kidding? I just have tunnel vision and this is just an obstruction._

"Ah," Christina says, unable to hide her subtle groan, though it goes over the other woman's head. Her shoulders are tense, eyes narrowed in an observant sort of way, like she's waiting to see what happens. "This is Tobias, Tris'... boyfriend," she states pointedly. I don't know what Christina was trying to tell me as I walked in, but I figure I should just go with whatever she says until she fills me in.

In complete honesty, the idea of being Tris' boyfriend has me feeling infinitely better, even if for just a moment as the woman's face falters briefly. She recovers quickly enough, cutting my weightless moment short. "Dating already? I highly doubt that." She gives a soft little giggle that makes my head throb painfully, as do her heels as she crosses the tile floor towards us. "My name is Nita." She offers a perfectly manicured hand adorned with several rings. I shake it awkwardly, almost on purpose, before purposefully dropping her hand away at the soonest possible moment. "It's _very_ nice to meet you. Can I show you in? Marlene has done quite the job with the place."

"Uh, thanks, but I'm sure Christina will show me. We were in the middle of a conversation," I respond flatly.

She hesitates for a moment, though to her credit, she doesn't flinch at my response, before she gives a slow nod and a sugary smile as she turns and goes the way she came. I turn back to Christina, confusion surely etched on my face. "What were you saying?"

She frowns for a second, conflicted a bit, but she seems determined to say her piece. "Look, you didn't hear this from me, okay?" I nod, though the feeling in my gut has me on edge. "When I got here an hour ago, Marlene told me she had caught Tris throwing back a shot of Jamison, and Marlene was pretty certain that wasn't the first. I haven't been able to get her to talk this morning, but something has her going nuts, so just…" She groans in frustration.

She thinks for a few seconds before she seems to settle on something. "I know my best friend code is supposed to include stuff about not sharing her business, but as her friend, and with her best interest in mind, I'm making an exception." She nods, as if agreeing with herself, before her eyes lock with mine.

"Last night, she called me at like eleven or something, and she was totally panicked, rambling like a maniac. Bad news or something…" Christina sighs heavily, her face falling almost in an exhausted sort of way. "She was doing fine with it once I calmed her down, even seemed okay this morning when I texted her, but by the time I got here, she'd pretty much crashed. She wouldn't tell me what the deal was, but she did mention a lot about you, and her not knowing what to do."

"What?" I ask quickly, too eager to figure this shit out than I should let on.

She puts her hands up in surrender. "Don't ask me what, that girl can be vague on a good day. Drunk Tris can be go either way, and this morning, she was about as forthcoming as a spy." She shakes her head, exasperated in this moment by her friend. That was a feeling I was familiar with, with Zeke and Shauna, but for vastly different reasons.

"Look, point is, whatever she found out last night is messing with her head. She's not thinking rationally, and she's not focused enough to be able to. So whatever that girl says or does, I beg you, don't let it get to you. That girl and Jameson are a bad combo, and I can't promise it won't get ugly in there… but just-"

I cut her off, not wanting to hear any more right this second, as my mind is reeling with all of this information. It's easily distracting me from my reservations of getting closer to her. It takes me a minute of processing, where thankfully Christina patiently waits, before I can nod and ask, "What all has she told you?"

She actually smirks, pepping up significantly, now that I've brought up a topic that's not so stressful. "I didn't need her to say a thing to know that I interrupted something yesterday, but she told me anyway."

I nod, unable to contain my smile at the thought of Tris talking to Christina about last night. "Well, then you know where I stand."

She actually breaks out in a wide smile. "Well, if you can get through this, I'll be able to believe it." That thought should scare me, but there's very little I am afraid of, and Tris is certainly not one of those things. "Come on, let's get in there."

She leads me through a lavish living room and on to a large formal dining room, though it's still hardly large enough to squeeze in the near twenty people here today. As if by instinct, the first person I see is Tris. Her hair is down, like it had been at the airport, straight sheets shining off her shoulders. It's like I'm watching a the memory of seeing her for the first time had we met differently; doing absolutely nothing to command attention, but gaining it anyway. There are times where it almost feels like she's the only thing worth noticing in the room.

Her eyes meet mine, and the moment shatters.

They're glassy, like they were that night at the bar, but they're not alive with light. They're cold, flat, hopeless, and my stomach plummets. She starts staring down into her glass, seemingly lost in thought, though I get the impression she does it so she doesn't have to look at me. Both seats are taken on either side of her, so there's no hope of me going to talk to her.

"See? Didn't I tell you?" I hear the tall woman say. _What was her name again?_ She's leaning in towards another woman with dark hair, though hers is short and straight.

"Oh, yeah, he is yummy," I make out the other saying under her breath, and my cheeks warm as I can practically feel their eyes run over me.

Christina looks pissed, shoots a glare at the women, but only shakes her head. Tris won't look back up, which seems to be making Christina even more upset, but she won't say anything.

She decides to take it into her own hands. "Hey guys, this is Tobias. He's stepping in for Eric."

I see a guy with dark hair and green eyes stand up, smiling at me. He walks around the table and comes to shake my hand. "So you're my new best friend," he says with a laugh.

"Uh…"

"Oh, sorry, I'm Caleb," he says, smiling as we shake. He releases quick enough, as if he's as uncomfortable with the gesture as I am, but willing himself to be polite. His smile is genuine, though. "Thanks to you, I've been spared a week with Eric _and_ I didn't even have to worry about finding the replacement. As far as I'm concerned, my sister just got me the best wedding gift I could have ever asked for."

"Oh, I'll say," I hear one of the women say, which grates at my nerves. I don't focus on her, though, because Tris has finally looked up, and our eyes meet.

By the grace of whatever higher power that exists in this universe, her eyes start to light up, and I can begin to see the Tris I have come to know. She even smiles a little, before she seems to think better of it, looking back down into her glass. _What is going on with her?_

I'm pulled back into conversation as Caleb introduces me to everyone, starting with his fiancee, Susan. She seems nice enough, but not like the type of person that would ever give me the time of day. I tend to come across too harshly for most people.

Susan is sitting next to Tris' right, so I get to watch her for a second as Caleb banters with his fiancee. Tris isn't engaged in anything around her, and it's downright concerning for me. I've never seen her this despondent or crestfallen.

I don't get time to think about it as Caleb is introducing Marlene, a girl with blonde hair and a bright smile that has the decency not to openly look me over, like I've already noticed three of the women doing. I come to find the woman that- _What was it, Frita?_ \- was so chummy with is named Lauren. Other than that, I almost instantly forget the other names. I don't foresee myself getting close to any of these people unless they're in Tris' circle, though after what Christina said as I got here, I may not even get that far.

I get squeezed in next to a guy with shaggy blond hair at the end of the table, and I'm thankfully joined by Christina, as she sits at the head, opposite Caleb. If it can't be Tris I get to sit next to, I'd rather it be her friend than someone else, like that whatever-her-name-is.

They start serving breakfast shortly after everyone is seated, and almost everyone seems to be interested in getting to know everyone else. I stay as far out of it as possible, as does Tris. She simply stares down at her plate as she picks at her food, barely getting down five bites. Her glass, however, is empty rather quickly.

Conversation carries on for a few minutes as everyone finishes up their breakfasts. Susan's brother and her cousin start to take care of the dishes as Marlene sends Caleb and Susan down to where the fittings are happening. I come to find that her mom does this sort of thing for a living and offered up her home and services as a wedding gift.

As everyone continues to talk, I am only able to focus on Tris, watching her stare blankly anywhere she can without drawing attention. I really hate whatever is happening. Every vibrant, breathtaking aspect I've seen is being suppressed, and that feels like a tragedy. I want to hear her voice and her laughter, see her smile-

"Handsome, did you hear me?"

I cringe as Frita pulls me out of my thoughts. _I'm just sticking with that._ "Excuse me?"

"I said, 'What's the story, Mr. Mysterious?' You've been awfully quiet."

"My name is Tobias," I say sternly, maybe more so than necessary, but I don't regret it. I want to be perfectly clear.

" _Tobias_ ," she corrects, looking at me with a piercing look, though nothing like how Tris looks at me. Frita just makes me uncomfortable. "Why so quiet?"

I shrug. "I'm not much of a sharer."

Frita gives me an all too big smile. It's not genuine at all. "Aw, well, I'm sure you could if you wanted to."

Something about her comes across like she's testing me, pushing my buttons to see what happens, and I don't like it. At all. "Well, as you said, I could if I wanted to."

Almost everyone laughs, hardest of all Christina and the guy I sat next to for breakfast, whose name I remember being Will. _Or at least I hope that's it._

It's Tris that I notice in the whole moment, though. She glances up, meeting my gaze with eyes that flash joy for just a moment. It's warm and inviting, settling me significantly even in just this moment. She even smirks a little, igniting a thrill in my gut. _I'm not going to be able to stay away… I care too much._

Then the look fades, the longer she looks at me, before she turns her eyes back down.

 _What the fuck is happening? What did I do? What_ do _I do?_

"Aw, c'mon. Humor us," one of the women whines.

"Yeah, please?" pouts Lauren as she bats her mascara-caked eyelashes.

"Tell us all about you, Tobias," Frita says softly, staring at me in a way that implies something more than just ice-breakers.

 _This is why I don't like people!_

"What's there to know?" I grunt out.

"Hmmm… Where do you live? What's your job? Do you have a girl back home?" Frita's eyes flash mischievously, leaving my stomach in knots.

"I'm from Phoenix, I work for Intel, and I don't share much more than that to people that are still strangers," I say pointedly, hoping she just backs off.

But she smirks instead. "Well, we could change that. We have time to get well acquainted before the wedding," she suggests innocently. "Lauren and I know a lot of good hang outs in town. We could show you around."

To my surprise, Tris scoffs, and it makes me grin before I can even think about what that will communicate to anyone. Before me or anyone else can say something, Christina snaps, "Keep it in your pants, Nita."

That caught us all off guard, but no one says anything more, seeing as Caleb and Susan return. "Alright, next they want Marlene, Tris, and Cara," Susan says as she takes her seat again. I reluctantly watch Tris leave, though shamelessly distracted watching her go. _Those pants… fit her too well._

The bright side is Nita stops with the questions, whether because of Christina's comment or Caleb and Susan's return, but I accept it either way. Everyone breaks into conversation, but once again, I stay out of it. I have no interest in small talk. It's an agonizing twenty minutes before the three of them return, only to ask for Robert, myself, and Will to head down for our turn.

I suppress a groan as my eyes linger on Tris as I pass, though her eyes stay clear of meeting mine. She looks so defeated… I can't stand that expression. Not on her.

The moment we're out of earshot, Will stops me suddenly. Robert hesitates, confusion etched on his face, but Will nods for him to keep going without us. Once he's out of sight, Will turns back to me. "In the name of sanity, and for the sake of time, I'm going to be straightforward: You have a thing for Tris, yes?" I must scowl because he adds, "You know what I mean. You care for her, right? Stranger or not, I'm not an idiot, and I'm not blind."

I sigh heavily, looking away. I could deny it, but he seems to have noticed my not so subtle staring. I don't know the guy, but I need to talk about Tris. I'm going out of my mind. "I do, but I'm not so sure about her feelings towards me, anymore…"

"Yeah, well, women are unpredictable, so you may never know." I can't help but laugh, and he joins me. _Why is that so true?_ "Mainly, I ask because before you showed up, it was me they were pestering, and I know how absolutely shitty it feels to have everyone _but_ the person you're interested in paying attention to you. You don't want to be an ass but-"

"-you don't want to lead anyone on," I finish, and he nods. "You said mainly… so the other reason, what was that? Do you like someone in there?" I ask without really thinking.

He grimaces, like he's embarrassed to voice his feelings. "I, uh, yeah…" He lets out a breathy, exasperated laugh. "She was just as distracted as Tris, just for different reasons."

I instantly know who he means, especially from his frequent attempts to pull her into the conversation. "Christina. Can't say I know her well, but if she's friends with Tris, she must be a good person."

He laughs sheepishly. "Well, I only just met her for the first time a few weeks ago, but I can say, it feels like longer."

He looks lost in thought. "I hear ya," is all I say before we start heading downstairs for the fitting.

The whole thing doesn't take terribly wrong. Marlene's mom is bubbly and witty, practically bouncing around as she works, not needing very much time at all to, "work her magic."

She sends us back up with instructions to send down Danielle, Molly, and Christina. It's hard to not taste bile rise in my throat as I head back upstairs. With Christina gone, I worry Nita will start back at it again. _Let's hope she'll hold off because of Caleb and Susan._ I can't be certain what's going on with Tris, but I can't help but sense these interactions are not helping in the slightest.

 _I need to fix this, and to do that, I need to figure out what's happening…_

 **AN: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. This has been quite the busy week for me, but it's been a lot of fun! There's a spoken word poetry program that originated in Chicago called Louder Than a Bomb, and there are programs in other cities that collaborate with the Chicago group. This year was the first year for it to take place in Arizona, and I was there, and man, oh man, was it awesome! Finals are tonight and I'm so excited to see it! I love how everything in my life comes back to Chicago and writing as of lately. It's great!**

 **Oh my word, your reviews for that last chapter were so amazing! BK2U- you had me laughing out loud when I first read this, but I appreciate it so much! enj412- thank you! Next time, I'll try not to be sneaky haha. LUCY1925- Oh man, thank you for this and yes there for sure will be more. And guest review Olivia- your reviews always make me teary eyed but I love them so much, thank you for being so kind.**

 **I really appreciate all the reviews, especially on the last chapter. I've never written a scene like that before, so to hear that it turned out has me over the moon! SUPER HUGE SHOUT OUT to CP for work shopping that scene. She gave me some awesome advice that really helped it. Also, she has given me some major pep talks that got me through it and got me over the hump. (literally and figuratively haha).**

 **Since this chapter was so short, I will have the next chapter up in the coming days. Thank you all again for the continued support! You all are awesome!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Remember**

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent, it's characters, it's quotes, etc. Thank you Veronica Roth for your stories, for they are my favorite distraction._

 _Rated M for language, adult situations, Mr. Vega, etc..._

Chapter Twelve

The rest of the morning seems to pass without incident. People leave me out of the conversation for the most part, and no one seems to question my terse and vague answers. My attention remains focused on Tris almost the entire time, trying to figure out if it's me or something else at the source of… well, whatever this is that's happening. She won't look at me at all.

By quarter to noon, all the fittings are done and people are starting to leave. Tris excuses herself to go to the bathroom before I even get out of my seat, so I end up waiting awkwardly near the front entry, wanting to see if we could talk.

However, this proves to be the worst place to wait, as Nita makes her way over to me. "Hey, stranger," she says brightly, trying to engage, but I say nothing. "What do you have going on today?"

I shrug. "Still in the process of figuring that out."

Her eyes light up. "Well, I could definitely help with that."

I frown at her. "Thanks, but I know how to take care of myself."

Her eyes blatantly roam my body, making my face go red. "I can see that." She smirks up at me, her lips puckered in what she must assume to be a sexy expression but comes across as ridiculous to me.

"Could you not?" I ask, exasperated. I don't have the time or patience for games.

"I was just agreeing with you," she says innocently, reaching out to touch my arm, but I move before she makes contact.

"I don't like people touching me."

She pouts, her brown eyes actually clouding with fake tears. "Well, that's no fun."

I'm shaking my head, unbelievably irritated. "I don't do things just because they're 'fun.' Now, this is where I say goodbye," I say flatly as I walk away, leaving her in the entry. Thankfully, Will and a few others are still in the dining room, so if Nita decides to come back around, I'll hopefully have someone able to discourage her.

Will introduces me again to his sister, Cara, who's one of the bridesmaids. She's been friends with Susan for years, from college, and Will got volunteered to fill a space for the groomsmen. She, thankfully, has tact and doesn't eye me, making me feel like a piece of meat dangling in front of a pack of wolves. She's quite intelligent, in a way like she can't help the knowledge pouring out of her brain off her tongue, but it never feels intentional.

As we're talking, I hear an angry Christina yell, "Don't you _dare_ walk out that door, Tris!"

I'm moving without thinking, walking towards the front entry. I see a blonde mane of hair disappear towards the front entry and follow, not even needing Christina to tell me where she's going.

As I get out the front door, I see she's already at the bottom of the steps, heading to the right to start walking to who knows where.

"Tris!" I see her shoulders tense. know she heard me, but she won't turn around. "Tris! Wait!" She makes no effort to even slow down, and it takes me jogging to catch her, grabbing her arm to pull her to a stop. "Hey, Tris, what's going on?"

She doesn't even turn to look at me right away, and when she does, I almost flinch. Her eyes are red, like she had been crying, and she's looking at me like it pains her. "I have somewhere to be, I-I-"

"Then let me drive you," I offer simply, not letting her stammer out an excuse.

She flounders for a second before she gets out, "I can't trouble you, I really-"

"Nonsense. It's no trouble. Besides, I've been trying to find a moment to talk to you all morning, so if I have to go for a drive to make it happen, I don't mind."

She doesn't respond for a long time, just stares at me. When she does, her voice is small. "Tobias, I don't think that's a good idea."

My heart plummets and I feel like the world will swallow me up any second. While I had considered doing the same thing earlier, distancing myself out of fear of what I'm capable of, now that she's suggesting it, it's too painful to consider, especially if it's because of something I did.

"And why is that?" I ask, not able to keep the intensity out of my response.

She shakes her head, averts her eyes, unwilling to tell me. What she does say is, "It'll be better this way."

I narrow my eyes at her. "Okay, let me tell you what's not going to happen: You're not going to just shut me out, giving me the cold shoulder without an explanation. You don't just get to go from hot to cold without a reason."

She looks like I slapped her, wild eyes and fire ready to be spit at me. "Excuse me?"

I look her pointedly in the eye, a whirlwind of emotion driving me forward without hesitation. "You heard me. You are going to tell me whatever it is that makes you think you shutting me out and wiping your hands clean is going to 'be better.'"

Her eyes flash agrily. "Are you trying to tell me what I can and cannot do, like I'm some _child_ , Tobias? Who do you think you are?" she rages.

I would cower, with the intensity her gaze holds, except I know, I _know_ this isn't really about me. I can see it in her eyes, she's deflecting. Even without Christina's warning I can see waves of pain crashing through her body and her mind is just trying to stop it. So, when I answer her, I keep my voice level and under control and my own temper in check."Yeah, I am, because I'm a person, Tris. If you want me to leave, if you have a problem with me, you tell me. You know how you asked me to be completely honest with you? Well, I'm asking you to at least give me a good reason before you toss me aside like I'm _nothing_."

My emotions are growing dangerously close to overwhelming, bleeding into my voice as I continue to speak to her. "I mean, this morning, everything seemed to be _fine_ , and then when I show up here, you're _drunk_ and you won't hardly look at me! Hell, you wouldn't even talk to Christina!"

I have to stop for a second, so I can calm down and speak civilly. "Look, I know I'm not the best guy by a long shot... I can be a total asshole, I'm insensitive, I'm a shit friend, but Jesus, Tris, even I feel like this is coming out of left field!"

She doesn't say anything, just bites her lip. Not in the adorably sexy sort of way I've started to fall for, but in the conflicted, tormented sort of way that makes my chest ache.

"Tris, please, just say something." When she shakes her head, anger flares up in my chest. I want to scream out of frustration. "That's just great, Tris. You're not even going to say anything to me? Am I that much of a piece of shit in your eyes? Thanks, it's nice to know," I say, looking pointedly at her. If that's what she thinks, I need to hear it from her.

She laughs a little, and though I can see sadness in her eyes, her face twists up angrily. I don't even have time to prepare for it before she focuses it on me. "You want me to _tell you_? Fine." She crosses her arms across her chest, facing me square on as her eyes burn into mine. Something about the fire in them lights up her face, and even though now is the worst possible timing, I'd give anything to kiss her; to reach out towards the flames in hopes it's enough to warm me, but not scorch me.

"It's not a good idea for us to continue… whatever this is and whatever happened last night. I was fooling myself into believing that things like this work out," she says, gesturing between us. "The thing is, they don't. You'll go home back to your life and forget _all_ about plain old Tris from the plane, and you'll find someone that suits your taste a little better, who you won't have to finesse so much, and-"

"Okay, what the _hell_ are you talking about?" I interrupt because either she drank a hell of a lot more than she let on, or she somehow became very disillusioned in the time since we kissed.

"Don't play stupid, Tobias," she snaps, turning away from me a little. "You don't have to be ashamed or secretive about making _friends_ while here. I'm not your girlfriend. You don't have to ask permission. You're not doing anything wrong, going out with someone you like, so don't make _me_ feel guilty by looking at me like you're missing out. You already have your free pass. Take it and spare me from having to be sloppy seconds!"

I feel so lost, I could scream, and she's so angry, she's can't be articulating well, either, because she's not making an ounce of sense to me. Her words come out slurred, stumbled over, and rambling, though they technically make sense , but I have no idea what she could possibly be talking about. "You're going to have to remind me of whatever brought this on, because I really have no idea what you're talking about."

She bites her lips to try and muffle the scream of frustration that rips from her chest, pacing the sidewalk as she fumes. "Why do you insist on torturing me?" she groans.

"Torturing you? You're the one who went flying out the front door without even talking to me once this morning, wanting me to just leave for no goddamn reason, Tris! How am is it that _I_ am torturing _you_?" I demand.

She shakes her head, whispering a faint, "You're unreal," under her breath. She seems lost in her thoughts for a minute, trying to figure out what to say. "You don't even have the decency to admit _Nita_ caught your eye?"

I don't even have words, so I just stare at her. Have I not been trying to keep that woman as far away from me as possible this entire morning?

But Tris carries on before I can even comment. "You don't have to lie, Tobias, I get it! She's tall, curvy, beautiful, _sexy_ … everything I'm not, so I get the picture. You don't- I'm not some- _ughh_! I don't need your sympathetic attention! I'm okay with being average and nothing special. I'm used to being overlooked, because at least it doesn't hurt like getting ditched for an upgrade does!" she spits out before she spins around and takes off walking again.

Her words feel like a slap to the face, but I remember Christina's comment about Jameson bringing out this side of Tris, so I try to overlook it. Besides, this girl seems to have forgotten that we _kissed_ and that I only have eyes for her. I know enough, though, that fighting with her on the street isn't going to solve anything, as much as I want to get to the bottom of this right now.

Instead, I'm resigned to catch and stop her, pulling her so that she's standing in front of me. "Tris, listen to me, please," I start, gently. "I don't know what you heard or saw that gave you that impression, but I can tell you, there is only one girl I have even the faintest ray of interest in, and she's doing everything in her power to try and push me away right now. So, excuse me if I call bullshit on whatever it is you're really trying to do here.

"So here's what's going to happen, and _yes_ , I am telling you what to do, because this is _not_ going to be how we 'end' things." I can hear the desperation edging it's way into my tone. I know she can hear it, but I don't care about the picture it paints so long as she hears what I'm trying to say. "You're going to forget that Nita even exists, because in this equation, she doesn't. You're going to sober up and remember what happened yesterday in your dining room. You're going to think about what _you_ want and how _you_ feel, and then when we talk next, that's what you'll tell me. Not what you think _I_ want or _I_ feel, because I haven't told you yet, so you don't know. You don't have to believe a word I say right now if you don't want, but you don't get to just walk away. Not yet."

She just stares at me, at a loss for words, so I continue as if that's an agreement. "I have to finish up paperwork before a meeting I have, but I don't really have anything else going on today. Can we meet up tonight?"

She stares so long at me without any sign of movement or response, I almost feel like she's going to say no. It's several minutes before she slowly nods. "After dinner with my parents, it'd be okay."

I nod slowly, feeling a little relieved. "Okay." I want to hug her, to hold her against me, because now that I know what being close to her is like, being apart feels like madness. I'm not inclined to enjoy it, seeing as I have more madness than I can already handle. "I have to go for now, but I'll text you when I'm done with my meetings. Then we can grab coffee or something. Okay?" All she does is nod once before she turns and walks away, and I watch her go until she's out of sight.

I don't get to turn around before a flustered Christina joins me. "Care to share what all that was about?" she asks, and I vaguely note that she's just as worried as I am. Even if I've only known Tris for a couple of days, she matters to me, and I care for her deeply.

I recount everything that we exchanged, and by the end of it, Christina is shaking her head like a disappointed mother would when her child made a dumb choice. "I swear, that girl-"

"-isn't going to get away with it, so don't worry," I finish for her, not needing to hear what I already know, having just witnessed a glimpse of it. She relaxes a bit and nods. "Whatever it is, I will figure it out. Like it or not, she's got me invested. I don't make friends easily, so I sure as hell am not just letting her waltz off on a miscommunication."

Christina smirks, which eases some of the tension that has built up again. "Friends. Hm, that's one word for it."

I shake my head, though amused this time. "Yeah, yeah, save it for when she's not calling herself plain."

She lets out a low growl-like sound. "Tris is so goddamn blind sometimes, it makes me crazy! Did she not notice the fucking _goo-goo eyes_ half the guys were shooting at her?!"

"Hm, well, I did," I grunt, not at all happy about the way I saw many of the guys look her up and down every chance they got when she would walk away, like her body was their last meal and they we're ready to feast.

Christina tries to hold back a smug look but does a pretty terrible job at it. "I bet you did," she teases. I roll my eyes at her, but I don't say anything. "It was hard to miss. How that girl doesn't _see it_ -"

My face heats up as I interrupt her with, "Is it really that obvious?"

She smirks. "To me, yes, but I'm Trissy's best friend." I cringe at the nickname. I don't find it to suit her at all. Christina scowls at me, but all I do is shrug. "It's what I called her when we were kids. It just stuck, okay?"

"No judgement. She calls me Four." I throw my hands up in surrender for good measure.

"Yeah, see, you don't get to talk, _Four_." It's my turn to scowl. _I think I might only like being called that by Tris…_ That thought is interrupted by Christina continuing her original thought. "Anyway, to everyone else, it's obvious you two know each other, but with the way Tris was behaving today, it would have made it harder for other people to realize what's happening between you two."

I'm not sure if I feel relieved or disappointed. It's not like me to be showy about my personal life, but at the same time, I want everyone to know she's the _only_ person I'm interested in, especially when the likes of Nita are around.

At the same time, I can't deny I'm mortally terrified she's going to be adamant about us going our separate ways. I'm sure other than the wedding, of course, but… _oh God, that'd be worse._

I can just see it now: seeing Tris the night of the wedding, dressed beautifully, I'm sure, but being limited to escorting her down the aisle; seeing her, but knowing that would be the last time I ever would; seeing her and being reminded that she's the only person I've ever wanted, and the only person I have ever been able to see a future with, even if that future hasn't defined itself yet. It's not even just attraction. It's her friendship, and the way it has already made me better. Even in just the small moments, that speaks volumes. The idea of losing that, of losing _her,_ terrifies me.

Because now that I've had a few tastes of it, I'm afraid I've already been hooked.

"Christina, what if she really doesn't want to do this? What if she doesn't think it's worth it and she doesn't-"

"Oh… my God, you sound exactly like her! Well, except… uh, for lack of a more appropriate word, _manly_." She shakes her head, like she's in shock. "It's kind of scary, but at the same time, in this scenario, that happens to be quite helpful for me. I know how to handle a Stiff."

I'm not sure I like that nickname either, but she is trying to help me, so I let it slide. "So, what does that mean?" I try to ask as patiently as I can.

"It means you have nothing to worry about. Between sleep deprivation and the alcohol consumption, of course she spilled everything. I mean, she hadn't even met you yet when she first mentioned you to me," she finishes with a laugh.

"How is that possible?" I try to think back, and all I can remember is her and I sharing a couple brief moments of eye contact, but nothing more than that.

"Oh, she said something about the view when she was on the phone with me before she went to the bar. That's a bit of code for us, so I knew she must have seen someone worth noticing. Then, of course, when she went to the bathroom, before you guys went to board the plane, she left me a drunken voicemail, which by the way, _she_ was the one who told me not to drink too much and make a fool of myself. She's such a _hypocrite_!"

We both laugh at this, because that is ironic. _Hopefully it's something we can laugh about with Tris someday… if she'll let me._

"So, then you landed and she was still impaired and tired enough to barrage me with texts, and they all at least mentioned you. I knew it was serious then. I've _never_ been able to boy talk for _her_ before, so I will go to great lengths to prolong this."

I stand there for a long time just staring at her before I finally say, "I totally see what she was talking about. You have no filter."

To my great surprise, Christina just smiles. "She is absolutely correct. Now, don't change the subject." She really looks serious, deep in thought. "I'll make sure her mom feeds her some good food and make her drink a ton of water, to flush her out. I'll make her take a nap, too, for good measure. And _you_!" She focuses in on me, her stare stern. "You better play out to be what she described. I better not have to lecture you."

I throw my hands back up in surrender. "Not sure what that means, but don't worry. If it's any consolation, I'm probably a lot like Tris in this area, too. Take that any way you'd like it, and it'll probably be true."

Suddenly, I feel horrified, having been so blatantly candor. "I will not ever acknowledge that little conversation ever again so don't even bother bringing it up." She's laughing hysterically at this point, and seeing as I blatantly spilled the beans on my own accord, I even laugh a bit, too.

Christina's phone starts to ring, so we say goodbye and head our separate ways. Since I still have quite a bit of paperwork to do, I swing by a Starbucks to pick up a coffee before heading to Pitzker Park. It's right down the street from Marcus' office, so when I'm finished, I can simply walk there.

Even though it's colder than shit still, thanks to another bought of cloud cover keeping the sun blocked, being outside in the park is the best place for me. It's easy to focus on the paperwork, rather than any other pressing distraction.

Every now and then, I find terms in a document that goes against previous arrangements, which irritates me to no end. After everything these three men have managed to do, somehow, it still doesn't seem to be enough.

Thankfully, I finish up with enough time to walk over to the office, and good on my word, I check in with the receptionist just as the clock strikes two. I don't even get a chance to sit down before I hear a forced chuckle behind me. "Mr. Eaton, you certainly like to push your luck, don't you?"

When I turn, I see Mr. Vega standing with his hands in his pocket, looking me over. I'm dressed casually, while he wears a dark blue suit, looking polished as always. I know it would have been a demand of Marcus' part, to look his absolute best at work, but I can't help but think he's inclined to do so on his own.

"I said I would be here," is all I give him, walking past him to go back to Andrew's office, the second to last office on the left of the hallway. The door is ajar, so I immediately see Andrew sat behind his desk, staring down at some documents. His dark hair is significantly more grey than it was the last time I saw him, nearly matching his suit. His green eyes have dulled, probably from the source of the bags beneath them. Andrew has progressively grown more worn down over the years. The toll of everything seems to be more than poor old Andrew ever thought, but I can't feel too sorry for him. He made his choices, and some of them are inexcusable to me.

Mr. Vega comes up behind me and clears his throat, startling Andrew just a bit. "My apologies. I lost track of time." He sighs as he stands, crossing the office to shake my hand. "Thank you for coming in." I think he really is grateful. After everything, he has got to be relieved the man is dead.

He extends an arm to one of the chairs in front of his desk. They're fairly plush, covered in a royal blue upholstery. I take the one that sits directly in front of Andrew's seat, so I can look him in the eye when need be. Mr. Vega takes the seat to the left of me, watching Andrew with a hint of amusement.

Andrew doesn't even acknowledged Mr. Vega and spares us the awkward formalities by getting straight down to business. It's boring, really, going over everything, making sure all the i's are dotted and t's are crossed. Mr. Vega practically goes nuclear when he sees I will indeed be taking the house into my possession, as Marcus had initially planned, but Andrew is well practiced at bringing him back down, even if Mr. Vega practically bores holes into my temple with his insistent glare. All the other points were settled as expected, though, which I'm grateful for.

Andrew finishes the last of the signatures as we go over the service specifics, most of which I could give a rat's ass about. He goes over the service, what flowers are there, the music… It all seems laughable. Marcus never went to church a day in his life, hell, hardly even had respect for people that did. He wouldn't have cared either way if there were flowers. Oh, and the music? He never played it in the house, and he berated anything that was on the radio.

This is all about the illusion. Even in death, Marcus doesn't want to tarnish his image. He doesn't want anyone to know him as the conniving, power-hungry narcissist he was, so he's having everyone take the time to walk the walk, even now. _As if anyone owes him a thing._

"Now, Mr. Vega spoke to me yesterday evening and did tell me he already discussed the other, er, _arrangement_ that needs to be seen to." He huffs out an uncomfortable breath, rubbing his face almost out of frustration.

"Arrangement?" Something about the way he said it already has me irritated, suspicious of where this conversation is headed.

Mr. Vega laughs a little, but Andrew cringes, giving him a tired look before turning to me. Andrew really has aged, and it's not helped with the bags under his eyes. He must not be sleeping well, as of late. "Your father specifically requested you bring your, er, significant other. It has come to my attention you don't have one, so-"

"Oh, sure he does, Andrew. Surely, you remember me telling you?" Mr. Vega laughs, looking pointedly at Andrew with a deliberate look. "She's a sweet little thing. I know you're not one for admiring a good piece of ass, Andrew, but that one, _whew_! Might even have caught your eye."

Andrew's face pales ever so slightly but he immediately looks at me instead, seeing as I've balled my fists so tight, my knuckle crack. What little color was left drains as he turns to Mr. Vega, a pleading look in his eye. "Must you talk like that?" The only answer he gets is a slight shrug of one shoulder, Mr. Vega's lips curled up in a smile.

Andrew shakes his head, almost defeated, before he finally carries on, leaving me to fester in my anger. "Tobias, you need to bring a woman along with you. I trust I don't need to list out what you should look for in her, but I have to say, your father made some requests as to who cannot be there."

My eyes fall closed, irritated. "Shauna," I state simply. The one female friend he knew about. Of course. If he thinks I'd have brought her, though, then he _really_ didn't know me, but the fact that he went out of his way to state that she couldn't be there feels like yet another blow to the gut. It's never enough, not for him.

The good news is, he's dead. After this week, there's nothing left held over me. So, as calmly as I can, I answer, "Don't worry, I'll have someone there."

"It'll be that little doll again, I bet," Mr. Vega goads, though he tries to maintain an expression of innocence. "I bet that little handful keeps you busy."

My jaw clenches painfully at his mention of Tris, and at his attempt to get under my skin. It's probably best that Tris and I fought this morning, because otherwise I think the overprotective side of myself that I've only recently discovered would have kicked into overdrive beyond my control. Who knows what condition Mr. Vega would be in if I had that chance?

"Oh, too modest to share? I'll read between the lines." He shifts in his chair so he can look at me more head on, though I stare straight ahead, staring at a point on the wall behind Andrew's left shoulder. "She's a secret you like to keep, I can see that much, which must mean there's something special about her." My heart is pounding. _Don't engage. Whatever you do, don't engage!_

"That's enough," Andrew says sternly, giving Mr. Vega the fiercest look I've ever seen him manage. It's… bizarre.

Mr. Vega is still staring at me, but he laughs at Andrew like he's a silly child throwing a tantrum. "Oh, Prior, relax. There's nothing to be ashamed about. Besides, you're the one behind the desk. We won't notice you getting all worked up picturing a pretty little thing writhing and screaming-"

"I said that's enough!" Andrew barks, a vein near his temple pulsing indignantly. He turns to me, his face reddening with anger before he clears his throat uncomfortably. "I think that's it, Tobias. If there's anything else, I'll call you. Otherwise, I'll see you Friday morning. You can go now."

I know it's an order, but I don't mind it. If I have to hear Vega say one more foul thing…

Before they can change their minds and rope me back in, I give a curt nod before I practically run out the door and down the hall. I don't look back, not even as I walk down the sidewalk. I'm done. After Friday, this all will end, and it can't happen soon enough.

 **AN: Woohoo! Tension! ;) Maybe I should bring in the Fireball sometime soon... Yea or nay? Who knows what could happen...**

 **Big shout out to MJ this week who helped me make Mr. Vega more deplorable. There will be... more where that came from. As far as Andrew, I'm loving all the thoughts on him, as well as what Tobias would think or feel when he discovers who he truly is. How do you all think it's going to happen? How do you think they'll handle it?**

 **And Tris. *sigh* That girl. What are we gonna do with her?! (Tobias is willing to take some suggestions he he he)**

 **The next chapter should be up by this weekend, unless I get really swamped this week with work, in which case it will be up Monday. Thank you all for your continued support. All the views, follows, faves, and of course, the reviews! I adore all of your amazing feedback.**

 **-Willow**


	13. Chapter 13

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent, it's characters, it's quotes, etc. Thank you Veronica Roth for your stories, for they are my favorite distraction._

 _Rated M for language, adult situations, etc... if you don't know by now, I can't help ya._

Chapter 13

I spend the rest of the afternoon with a realtor I had contacted when I was still back in Arizona, which seemed to be the only thing that could boost my spirits. Just knowing I'm so close to closing this chapter of my life feels liberating. Soon, with the house sold, my life will be void of almost everything that was Marcus.

All that will be left, really, will be me.

I had texted Tris around 4:30 to let her know I was done with all my meetings. She didn't text back for a while, so I used the time to think about the last few days, as well as the days to come. Everything surrounding Marcus has me tense, irritable, and feeling raw. Tris, on the other hand, has pumped me full of life, inexplicable happiness, ease, and even a small sense of safety, even when she's screaming at me, lost in her own drunken delusions.

An hour later, I got Tris' return text telling me she would be ready anytime after seven, so I spent the rest of the time grabbing a bite to eat and thinking about and preparing for tonight. Though, speculating doesn't seem to help my nerves. A lot of this rides on what she wants. I can't even think about it until I know that much, other than I want a chance for something.

Because I'm pathetic, I'm parked in front of her house ten minutes early, and because she seems to be a damn mind reader, it's not even a minute later that I get a text from her.

 _Tris: Let me know when you're here. I'll just come down. I'm hoping to keep my parents blissfully unaware that you're in fact a male friend, because then I'd never hear the end of it._

 _Tobias: Understandable. Well, I actually just pulled up, whenever you're ready._

 _Tris: I'll be down in a sec._

My heart races and pounds in my chest. If this had been last night, these feelings would be of light, nervous energy, what with being around this girl who I can't seem to get out of my system. Now, it's nerves all right, but reminiscent of something horrifying like public speaking. I know she could adamantly put her foot down, saying she's not interested in even seeing me anymore. I'm terrified of that reality. In such a short time, she has already grown to really mean something to me.

My fears are momentarily pushed to the back burner as she steps outside. The golden light from the lightpost catches in her hair, illuminating her beautiful face in such a radiant way, I can't help but smile. She's still wearing the black and white striped sweater and black, form fitting pants she was wearing earlier, though she now has a black jacket on as well. She keeps her eyes to the ground only until she reaches the gate. It's then that our eyes meet, and everything seems to stand still…

...until a soft, warm smile lights up her face and sends my heart soaring through the stratosphere. She is so naturally and effortlessly beautiful, and I don't think she knows it. I wish she could see what I see.

She slides into the passenger seat effortlessly, but she doesn't turn to look at me, busying herself with the seatbelt and adjusting her purse on her lap nervously. Then, and only then, does she turn to look at me. She's got a hold on her bottom lip, nervously waiting for the silence to be broken.

"Sorry," I finally spit out, turning away briefly out of embarrassment. "I didn't mean to stare, I just…" I'm not sure how to end that thought, so I don't even bother. Turning back to her, I see her eyes bright with amusement. Maybe that should make me feel even more embarrassed, but it calms me. This is definitely an improvement from earlier, so I'm over the moon right now. "Uh, does coffee still sound good?"

She offers me a small smile and a subtle nod. It's obvious she's nervous, too, but it doesn't strike me that it's enough for her to run. I think she's just anxious to work out all the uncertainties, much like me.

It's a very short drive over to a coffeebar that's not too far from her house. The front of the building is almost completely made up of windows, though the shop only takes up the downstairs. It's warm inside, packed full of brilliant smells of coffee and pastries. I can't help but watch Tris as she sniffs the air excitedly, her eyes bright as she takes in everything. She looks in awe at the case of treats, which is exactly what I did the first time I came to this place. I'll admit I've got something of a sweet tooth.

"I found this place my senior year of high school," I tell her, looking over the case to see what I want to try this time. I've told myself I'll try something new every time. "I'd come here on nights when I'd need to study, because Zeke and Uriah were hopeless."

She seems to be taking in my words, considering them carefully. "After you left home, you lived with them?"

I love that she puts things together before I can even explain them. "Yeah. Hana took me in and said I had a home for as long as I needed. I worked and helped out as much as I could, but I got out on my own as soon as I could. It was better that way. I used to say me being on my own is for the best, but I think things change." I'm not sure if I want her to catch my hidden meaning in that, but I resigned myself earlier to be brave and honest tonight, even if it means it blowing up in my face.

She doesn't say anything, but she's smiling faintly. _Yes!_

We're next in line and she turns to me, a questioning look on her face. "Would it be okay if we go Dutch?"

I could see how that would keep this situation balanced, as well as giving her some element of control even if in just a small way, so I nod. "I'm fine with that." She smiles, relieved, before we each place our orders for hot chocolate and an almond croissant. She gives me a suspicious look as I place the same order, albeit a playful look, so I just shrug my shoulders. "You have good taste." That earns an eye roll that I gladly accept.

It's not long before we're tucked back in a corner at a little table with our drinks and pastries, stuck in a tense silence I'm not sure how to break. I can't help but stare at her, caught up in how happy I am she is here. Even if she's busy trying to distract herself from the moment by fiddling with her croissant.

I'm about to tease her about it, but she speaks just as I open my mouth. "Christina was so mad at me about earlier, she called my mother. I pretty much got an adult version of a time out." She says it with humor, but I can sense a hint of shame in the way she discusses it.

Finally her eyes meet mine, bright and clear and full of fire. "I'm sorry for how I talked to you and treated you earlier, Tobias, especially after everything you've done for me and my family. You deserved so much better than how I treated you."

"You don't have to apologize, it's-"

"No, I do. What I said when I was drunk… you should know I think highly of you, despite what the Jameson may have made you think." She sighs, almost defeated, like she thinks its too little too late, so I reach across the table and take one of her hands in mine, rubbing my thumb over the soft skin of her hand.

Our eyes meet and she can't hide the smile that warms her face, so I tell her, "To be fair, I was acting weird this morning. I'm sorry about that."

Curiosity grabs her attention, her focus shifted. "What _did_ happen?"

My shoulders tense, not ready to cross that bridge just yet. "Honestly, I'm not quite ready to talk about it. I think we need to talk about this, first," I admit, gesturing between the two of us.

"That's fair," she agrees, looking up at me with such a searching expression. "So, _this_?" She nods towards our entwined fingers.

"More like _us_ ," I press, wanting to be perfectly clear in this conversation. No more misunderstandings. "I'm going to be completely candid, okay?" She nods, though she's biting her lip anxiously. "I haven't been very forthcoming, though ironically, I did tell you I was like that when we met." Thankfully, she shares a little laugh with me. _So far, so good…_

"I told you that I was hard to reach that night, because of my instinct to expect the worst of people. While that's usually true, that has never seemed to be the case with you. Maybe the tequila let down my guard, but there is something about _you_ that has convinced me."

She's looking at me with wide eyes, full of a heavy feeling but also something warm, almost affectionate. It makes no sense in my mind, but I _sense_ it; I _understand_ it without words. Her expression shifts in question. "Convinced you?"

"I've never truly trusted someone in my life before. At least, not that I can remember. When we sat at that bar and talked, I trusted you with more than almost anyone, with the exception of Zeke, Shauna, and Hana." I see her nod along in understanding, and she seems to be relaxing a little bit. Is that a good sign? _God, I hope so._

"However," I start slowly, and her eyes snap to mine, holding my gaze steadily. "That was just when we met." I make sure to keep my eyes locked with hers as long as she demands it. With her, I'm not afraid of the truth. Sure, I might not jump right into the deep end, but I'm not running from it.

"What about now?" she pries, as if she can't help herself. _Good sign?_

I shift forward on my chair, buying time. I'm nervous, but determined. Our eyes lock again, and honestly, I'd be content just sitting here, enjoying the view, but I know every second I make her wait only winds her up even more. _Save that for another time._ "You are the only person I have ever wanted to be open with. I've never wanted to talk about my past, my family…"

My voice trails off, emotions I can't quite name rising quickly and threatening to suffocate me. This is a lot harder than I really anticipated, especially because her eyes are so expressive, and I can see the intense feeling flashing cross them as I speak. Still, somehow, I push past it and finish my thought. "I trust you, Tris. I know we hardly know each other, but for whatever reason, I trust you, and that means something to me. That's not… nothing," I get out, lamely.

"It's not," she affirms quickly, but genuinely. _If she believes that..._

"With that in mind, I want you to know that I'm trusting you with more truth than I've ever... I've never…" This isn't coming out like I planned and she's just staring at me, like there's nothing to say. _Come on, Tobias! Get it together!_ "I'm really bad at this sort of thing," I admit, but she just breaks out into a bright smile.

"Tobias, no you're not. I'm just…" She sighs heavily, lost in her head. "I'm stuck second guessing myself and what I _think_ I know." She distracts herself by drinking some hot chocolate and nibbling on her croissant.

I'm reminded of her mention of Nita and some other comments I'd rather not remember at the fittings today. There was a miscommunication somewhere this morning, and it needs to be cleared up. Immediately.

"This morning's conversation on the sidewalk was quite baffling, especially when you mentioned Nita." Tris' ears burn a bright red at the mention of Nita, and she refuses to look at me. "I'm not going to entertain the idea that there is even an ounce of anything appealing about that woman, as far as I'm concerned. She's blatantly insincere, superficial, and vain, and she shows no regard for personal space or boundaries. I could go on if you'd like."

She looks up at me almost guiltily, like she's ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry," she starts, but I'll be having none of that.

"Don't apologize, please. You couldn't have known what I was thinking. Besides, I only saw her at the breakfast. I'm sure you know her better than I do."

"She's vile." She sighs, shaking her head vaguely. "I realize now she lied to me to get in my head."

"What do you mean?"

She won't look at me, but she does answer softly. "Well it started with all the comments she was making about me throughout the morning. Comments that honestly made me feel like a slug or something. I felt delusional and gross and just all sorts of awful. Most of it was before everyone got there. I went to help Marlene get set up, and Nita was there. I took one look at the Jameson and knew it was that or pitch myself off Willis Tower, so…" She gives a weak laugh, trying to divert my attention away from what all she's said. "Nita's never really liked me, but she'd never outright display anything in front of Susan. She and I go back longer than she and Nita do.

"Then when you got there, she was all on you, too, but totally, I don't know, _objectifying_ you, and it was making me sick to my stomach. While I may agree with her on some, uh, observations, I don't think it's reason to treat anyone like a commodity. _Especially_ not you. You're so much better than that…" She drifts off in thought for a second. As much as I have a million thoughts and questions swirling around in my head, I let her ruminate in peace and relative silence.

"After the fittings, I told myself I'd at least talk to you, because I wanted to be decent, but when I found you, it was with her approaching you in the entryway. I couldn't hear anything or see your face, you were turned away from me. All I saw was her smiling and getting all touchy, and I assumed that because she's so sexy and beautiful and, well, easy, it'd make up for what a crappy person she is, and in the moment, I thought I was, well, that I was wasting… my time…"

My heart rate speeds up tremendously, hopeful in the possible implication of those words, but I need to put one thought to rest. "Please do not call Nita _sexy_ , at least not in front of me. It makes me gag," I say, twisting my face up in disgust.

Her whole face just lights up as her laugher sweeps over her. It's light and musical, _magical_. "Seriously?"

I nod, offering her a smile. "I don't find her appealing at all, because it's all fake. Now, you on the other hand…" I let my voice trail off, both to tease and because I'm not sure if she's okay with me being so vocal about how attractive she is. It's not that I've never noticed women before, but it's never been anything other than an observation. With Tris, her shape catches my attention like a magnetic force; a need that I've never indulged before. She's the only person I've ever...

 _Focus, Tobias._

She's looking at me like she can't believe what I'm saying. "You've lost me," she admits.

I allow my eyes to trail over her, and the effect is a glowing flush creeping over her. When my eyes get back to hers, they're heavy with an intense feeling. "I happen to find you breathtaking," I say pointedly. "There is no competition in my eyes. You don't have to agree, just accept that's how I feel."

"I…" She bites her lip, nervously. "I don't…"

I shake my head vaguely, just a bit. "Give me time, and I'll make sure you see everything I do. It'd be a long night if I had to do it all right now."

She smiles at me, shaking her head like I was, but out of amusement. "So what exactly are you suggesting?"

This is the moment I have been hoping for. This is the question I have thought out an answer for. "I would like a chance to see what can happen in a week." Her eyes light up at my request, but she doesn't say anything. It's like she knows I have more to say. "As cheesy as this sounds, I think you and I share a special connection, and I'd like to take whatever time we have together here to at least explore it."

She studies my face for a long time, but I know not to rush her responses. I think she likes to think through her words carefully before she offers them. "What happens if you decide you don't want this to be just a week thing? And, um, how, uh, how far are you willing to let it go? What's your, uh…" She swears under her breath nervously. "I don't mean to sound so blunt, but what are your intentions? "

Initially, the implication stings a bit, but I completely understand what she's concerned with, so I disregard it. "I don't want to put any expectations on us, but I want to follow this wherever it leads. If it means we hang out a lot while here and occasionally meet up after we get back home, then great. If it means getting to kiss you again, even just once, even better. If it means you and I are good together…" She's biting back a big smile, I can see it in her eyes, but she can't bring herself to say anything. "You get the idea," I finish, lamely. I hate to admit I lost my nerve, but I have to be honest with myself if I'm going to be honest with her.

"So what would that look like, then?" Her eyes bore into mine, wide, but hopeful. _Please be a good sign._

This is another question I have prepared an answer for. "It's not like you're that far from where I live. There's nothing keeping me from the, what, twenty to thirty minute drive into Phoenix, and I'm more than willing to make it happen, if that's what you want."

She stares at me so insistently before she just laughs a little. "You're really serious about all of this."

I throw my hands up, like I'm trying to stay neutral."Hey, you wanted me to be honest."

She smiles at that. "Well, speaking of that, I should say something." She takes a deep breath and releases it in a sigh. "I think there's a lot we need to talk to each other about. I'm certain there are subjects on both sides that need to be broached. I think, for at least myself, I need to address all of that before going back to Arizona. If I can't…" She closes her eyes briefly, collecting her thoughts. "There are some things that have to be said, and if I can't say them here, that says a lot about me."

"I know what you mean…"

We sit in silence for a few minutes. It's not uncomfortable, but thoughtful as we each gather our thoughts. "Well, in the name of honesty, I can say I really like you, Tobias. I think you're a good person, and you make me better. I mean, if I can say that in just the few days we've spent together, that says something. As much as I'm afraid of this not…" She doesn't finish the thought, and I can't deny that I'm grateful she doesn't. "All I could think about this afternoon is how much I'd regret not knowing… not trying. I can't just walk away because I'm scared. There are real things to be scared of, and you are not one of them. When I reminded myself of that, it made it easier for me to know what I want."

I'm a tad bit surprised at her forthright admission, but surprise gives way to elation; heart trying to jump from my throat . Still, I want to hear her say it. "And what is it that you want?"

She squints her eyes at me playfully, but she throws in a smile for good measure. "I want to see what can happen in a week."

Try as I might, I can't rein in how ecstatic I am to hear that. "So, you're not opposed to me taking you on a date tonight?"

She looks surprised by the idea for a few pounding heartbeats, but she's back to smiling soon enough. "A date?"

I nod. "I already kissed you. It'd be nice if we could share a date, too, if that's alright with you."

"I'd like that. What did you have in mind?"

I try not to smirk, but she catches it. "It's a surprise," is all I say, and I can see her practically squirming. I had a feeling she wasn't a huge fan of surprises. "What are your plans tomorrow?"

She gives me quite the look, trying to figure me out. "Wedding stuff during the day. I was actually wondering if tomorrow would work for you to come over for dinner."

I smile at her, though the idea makes me nervous. "That'd be perfect. So, you don't mind if tonight runs a little late? I'll come help you with stuff tomorrow to make up for it," I offer, hoping she'll agree.

She smirks, looking up at me playfully. "I'd have said yes without you offering to help, but now that you offered, I'll have to take you up on it."

 _As if I mind._

With the biggest smile I've had maybe ever, I simply say, "Deal."

 **AN: It's so fluffy I'm gonna die! ;) Just wait until their date next chapter! You all have been so patient, and since there's the family dinner coming up, I figure you could use a break from the tension. (Hey, Tobias and Tris need a break, too!) Any ideas what Tobias is dreaming up for a date? (Hint: the location is briefly mentioned in chapter seven) It's been a lot of fun to write, and I think you'll enjoy it.**

 **I hope that answered some things, but there is still muuuuch to come, so if it didn't answer all your questions, I promise, they will be soon. Maybe not for a few chapters, but I'm starting to write it now. (How's that for vague?)**

 **As always, I love and appreciate all the support and feedback. Your reviews are all awesome!**

 **-Willow**


	14. Chapter 14

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: This is a modern day AU based off of Veronica Roth's Divergent._

 _Rated M - for language and for.. uh, progress ;)_

Chapter Fourteen

We take our time enjoying our hot chocolate, croissants, and best of all, each other's company. Our decision to go forward seems to have eased a lot of tension within each of us, even though however far that ends up being has yet to be determined. It almost feels like we merely left off where we left off after we kissed last night. _Has it really only been twenty-four hours since then?_

Once we finished our snack, we decided to go on a drive, since we had some time before my next plan, though I left that little detail out. As we set out, Tris tells me how driving at night is always relaxing and fun for her, so we go about the city rather aimlessly. I did have a destination in mind, but we still have time before I wanted to get there, so Tris throws out random directions as we go along. We passed the time driving by talking, with music from Tris' Pandora filling the space between our conversation.

"Take a right up there," Tris says excitedly.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask, half amused, half amazed, considering she has no idea where I'm aiming to go and still seems to be directing me the right way.

"I don't know," she says with a shrug. "I just have a good feeling." _She has to be a mind reader._

We continue to talk, mainly about little things. It started with passing a bakery Tris had frequented as a child with her mother and brother. By the time I'm pulling into a parking spot, we've both recounted memories that've come up as we pass various places we've been. Mine are few and far between, but Tris seems to hang off of every word, soaking them in like they were sustenance.

It works out perfectly, really, because the place I've brought her to is one I've been thinking about a lot since meeting Tris, and one that I have a strong past connection to. Since we're not parked directly in front, she looks around curiously, trying to guess first before I can tell her. When she can't figure it out, she scrunches up her face, flustered a bit.

Chuckling, I reach for her hand and lace my fingers with hers. "Come on, Six. Let me surprise you."

Her eyes are sparkling brightly, reflecting the streetlights and her joy as she rubs her thumb against mine tenderly. It's such a small gesture, really, but it has my heart skipping, my head spinning, and my cheeks straining to maintain my grin. Holding hands used to seem like such a strange concept, and I never understood why anyone even tolerated it, let alone enjoyed it. Now, though, as I feel her fingers tangle with mine, sending waves of warmth through me, I begin to understand.

She allows me to guide her down the street, but we've only made it past a few storefronts before I can hear music beginning to fill the night. It must be after nine, now, because that's when the live music starts.

Tris looks curiously around before her eyes find a simple fluorescent sign up ahead that reads 'The Pit' in blue lettering. She looks up at me questioningly, but she doesn't ask me anything. If I had to guess, she's actually willing herself to let me surprise her. _Okay, that_ has _to be a good sign._

The building doesn't seem like much on the outside, but it's the inside that's so special. The Pit is rightfully named in that the whole place is sunk into the ground, where I'm sure it used to be a basement. The first floor has been ripped out, and the glass ceiling is high and vaulted. The walls have been made to appear like stone walls, making it feel like we're in some cavern. Directly across the room from the bottom of the stairs is the dark wood bar, lit with piercing blue lighting. It takes up almost the entire length of the wall.

There's a stage to the immediate right of us, and there's a space for dancing that's currently unoccupied, though the later it gets, the more crowded it will become. The left side of the room is filled with tables, with booths lining the other walls. The music is loud, filling the space with the live cover band, but not so loud where you're scrambling for cover.

I squeeze her hand a bit before tugging it gently, trying to get her nearer to me so I can lean down close enough her ear. I don't want to yell at her, even if it's just over music. "Bar, table, or booth?"

She turns to look at me, but she must have not realized how close my face is to hers. Our noses almost brush together, but neither of us pull away. She seems just as content as I am to simply look at each other intently, sharing air. Her eyes are dark in this lighting, their reflection giving her eyes a chrome like gleam. It gives her expression an added level of intensity, which she did not need any more of, but I'd be lying if I didn't find it thrilling all the same.

"Booth," she says, smiling shyly, though with an edge of determination.

There are a few open, so I pick one that has a good view of the cover band. She pushes for me to slide in first, which I'm grateful for, because when she slides in next to me, she scoots right up next to me. We're not quite touching, but I can feel the warmth radiating from her person, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand at attention. Her presence often has a similar effect on me, but this time it's joined with something more… a need.

It grabs the reins in a way I'm not familiar with, like I'm switching to auto pilot while still being hyper aware of everything that's happening. It's almost magnetic, the way my hands tremble, desperately pleading for the space between us to become nonexistent. She's pulled her hair over her left shoulder, leaving her slender neck exposed. All I'd have to do is lean down maybe all of six inches, and my lips would be trailing the skin there. _Would she let me? Shit, now's probably not a good time…_

My thoughts are interrupted by a waitress who takes our orders. We both stay away from the alcohol, at least for tonight, deciding on soft drinks instead. It's probably for the best, seeing as I have to drive, and I don't think she wants to be the only one drinking. Besides, I don't need alcohol to be intoxicated. I have her.

She turns towards me, pressing her knee into mine under the table. My whole body tenses at the contact, but in the best way; in a way that hopes for more. "How did you find this place?"

"It's a bit of a story," I start, more to gauge how interested she may be.

My eyes drift down to her lips, which are curled in a faint smile, waiting for her response. She hesitates, thinking over her words carefully before offering them. "Well, you have me for the rest of the night. What you do with that time is up to you."

I'm so caught up watching her form the words and speaking them, fascinated by the way her mouth moves, that her words nearly go over my head. After knowing Zeke for as long as I have, though, that's not what happens.

Instead, brief flashes of the dream I had this morning blindside me. _As if I could forget._ Just a split second of remembering has me wound up tight, leaving me in quite the predicament. Even though Tris and I haven't come even close to sharing a moment as charged as the one in the dream, the visions that pummel me are nearly as vivid as my memories of kissing her.

 _-Her hand smooths over my abs, my chest, over my shoulder, up and down my back-_

My entire lower half twitches in my seat when I feel her hand on my knee, squeezing gently to grab my attention. The contact only intensifies the tension I'm trying so hard to manage. "You okay?"

 _Shit, I need to pull it together!_

"Sorry, I, uh, got a little, uh, got a little distracted," I stammer out, staring right into her eyes despite my embarrassment.

"Distracted by what? The possibilities?" she suggests with a smirk.

"Possibilities? What do you... Oh… _Oh_. No, that's not- I didn't-..." I give up trying to explain myself. Between my burning ears and downward gaze, I'm sure it's obvious what I was thinking about.

When I pull myself together enough to meet her gaze again, it's to find a smug look of accomplishment. "It's okay, I'm not going to tell you off. I might even admit that I'm a little flattered."

It's my turn to look like a smug fucker because hearing her say that gives me way too much satisfaction. _Settle down and focus!_ I lean in a little closer to her and softly tease, "Might? Hm, well, then I _might_ tell you about it sometime."

Her cheeks turn pink at the suggestion, thus turning the wheels in her head, trying to know where that conversation would ultimately go. It's hard not to wonder if she really knew what I was thinking about, or if she was just trying to tease me. Either way, whatever she thought she knew hopefully is playing out in her mind…

 _Okay, maybe don't think about that right now._

"I owe you a story," I spare her, and well, myself as well, and she smiles at me in thanks. "Right before I left home, life got rough for me. I mean, beyond anything I'd ever faced. I was already friends with Zeke, and Hana gave me an open invitation to come over whenever I needed them, but I didn't want to bother them with my problems, so I learned to use running to cope.

"There's something about the control, the pushing through pain to accomplish something with just your body… I don't know, it was what I needed." I rub the back of my neck, feeling the hot skin reflecting my discomfort. Her hand is still on my knee, but she starts to rub it soothingly, squeezing it occasionally in encouragement.

I'm finding that her little physical gestures don't come across as threatening, seeing as it took a long time to reach a point where I was okay with anyone touching me. For Zeke and Shauna, it was years. For Hana, it was months. Somehow, with Tris, though, each point of contact is out of comfort. I long for her touch, and not just in an overtly intimate way. The way she massaged my hand at the airport, her placing her hand on my back to introduce me to Christina, her thumb smoothing over my own as we held hands, and now this… I crave each instance, and the more of it I get, the stronger the need becomes.

The contact is enough to ease me into continuing. "When things got hard, I'd go running, if I could. There was one night, though, that I just took off. I didn't think about where I was going, how I'd get back, what type of trouble I'd be in if I did… I just let my feet carry me as fast as they could. The adrenaline kept me going a good ten miles straight before I pretty much just passed out on the street."

Her hand tightens around my leg without thinking, can tell by the look of concern etched on her face. There's a knowing air in her expression, as if she knows the cruelty Marcus rained down on me that sparked the need to escape. _Like I said, she's a total mind reader._

I'd be lying if I didn't admit to usually being leery of the reaction people would have if I told them the truth about my life living with Marcus. I see how most people react towards those types of recounts, even if it's not my story they're hearing. The look people get always hits me like a punch to the gut. They'll look at a person with pity, like they're weak or a second from breaking or even less of a person. Personally, I have no use for pity and I made sure to be strong, in spite of whatever Marcus was trying to accomplish. All a reaction like that does is make me feel like I had felt still living with Marcus.

If Tris were to look at me like that, I'm not sure what I'd do. Seeing me as perfect isn't the point, but seeing me for who I am, especially now, is. I'm not sixteen, anymore. I'm an adult who has transformed his life into something so different from childhood, most people hardly even recognize me. While it's a part of me, it's more an explanation of why I am the way I am, not a definition.

I hope she can see that…

"What happened?" Her eyes are wide, their silvery blue color reflecting the light on the wall behind me as she waits for the rest of the story.

Trying to keep it casual, I shrug like it's no big deal. Then, from the stage, I see the lead singer check the time. _I think that's my cue..._ "Came to after a little bit," I answer her, somewhat evasively. "I came to around this time of night, right outside of this bar, to the sound of the song Darkness, by Tab Benoit."

The timing couldn't be more perfect, really, as if they were waiting for me to get the words out. _This is some Hollywood shit right here._ The lead's soulful voice starts in on lyrics before the instruments can join, instantly pulling our attention to them.

 ** _(Tab Benoit- Darkness)_**

 _I'm walkin' slow  
With a weary mind  
She's draggin' me low  
I'm fallin' behind_

 _You got me where you want me  
Still I keep on tryin'  
Tryin' to see through the darkness  
Between you and I_

 _Sometimes it gets hard to find  
Any love of any kind  
Lord turn on the love light  
Before I go blind_

 _And pick me up off the ground  
Let's let our hearts shine  
Shine our way through the darkness  
Between you and I_

Tris had turned away from me to watch the band perform, and to listen to the lyrics more intently, but as we reach the long musical interlude, she turns back to me, her face bright with wonder, and exclaims, "Wow! This is amazing!" She flashes me an enthused smile before she turns back towards the stage, like she's afraid of missing a second. My eyes linger on her, though, watching her joy take over more and more with each second that passes. She seems so comfortable. _I could get used to this..._

 _You know I love you  
But I did you wrong  
And we both made our choices  
Now it's time to move on_

 _So please, please forgive me  
And let's walk side by side  
And fill in this darkness  
Between you and I_

The song continues on for well over a minute, but I steal back Tris' attention by nudging her arm with mine easily, seeing as her hand is still on my knee. She turns back quickly, her face alive with sheer joy. "That was the song you first heard that night?" she confirms.

"That was the first song I ever heard, period."

I don't intend to dampen the mood or to use the light in her eyes as a price to pay for my honesty, but even I can feel her heart fall at my words. I can see it in her eyes. Once again, a knowing expression crosses her face, but I don't press her as to why she'd look at me like that. There's plenty of time for me to ask about her truth. As for tonight, I promised her mine.

"Music wasn't something allowed in my home growing up." She nods, looking away briefly, but I carry on anyway, though I watch her carefully. "I never knew what I was missing until I really heard it."

She brings herself closer to me so that our knees are touching again, looking at me in a searching way. "So, is this why you love the blues so much?"

I shrug, because it's not wrong, but it's not exactly right, either. "Kind of." My neck burns furiously, the feeling creeping up into my ears. She's searching me like she did the night at the airport, trying to read me with that perceptive mind of hers. "Though I couldn't necessarily relate to the lyrics of the song from instances in my own life, I could still feel what the song was about. I respect the blues, and love it so much, for that reason- it communicates pretty universally."

She nods, looking at me fiercely. It's not hostile, but I feel like I've been turned to stone under her gaze. Beneath it all, though, I still see her internal struggle, but for what?

"You don't have to be careful with your words," I all but blurt out, nerves getting the best of me.

A faint smile flickers across her face. "I'm deciding if I want to say something or not."

"Well," I start, leaning in closer to her. There has to be less than six inches between our faces right now, but it still feels like too much. "I think you should just say it. If I don't like what you have to say, it's my own damn fault, because I asked you for it."

She tries to suppress her laugh but fails beautifully. I love her uncontained laughter, especially in moments like now. It's so melodic, so lively… _God, I'm a sap._

"Fine," she surrenders, looking up into my eyes. With the way we're situated, she has to look up at me through her lashes and the effect shoots right through the center of my body like white hot energy. Thank God it's her turn to talk, because I'm seriously and helplessly distracted by Tris biting her lip, her breathing hitching _just slightly_ when I don't break our stare even to blink… "Uh, I was, um…"

I've never considered myself knowledgeable in the world of relationships, which includes social cues. Even with the help of Zeke, I've always thought what I knew was pretty basic in the grand scheme of things. I've always doubted in my ability to know what was going through the mind of someone I liked and acting accordingly.

That is so not the case right now.

Even with our eyes locked, I see her press her knees together and that about knocks me flat out on the floor with such an intense shock to my system, the feeling beyond words. My mouth goes dry, my throat and a great number of other things way too tight, _like these goddamn pants_. By the way she's looking at me, she has to be feeling what I am. She did lose her words, after all...

"Rain check?" she huffs out, and it only just occurs to me that I've snaked my arm around her waist and started to pull her closer.

"On which? This or your story?" I ask as I lean in by her ear, wanting to keep this moment between us, even if no one is intentionally listening in.

She turns her head more towards my own ear, getting the idea. _Mind. Reader._ "I'd prefer a rain check on the story, but I'm okay with whichever you'd prefer."

Like that's a tough choice.

"But…" She's looking at me shyly, now, as if she's not sure if she should take a chance on continuing. She seems resolved to being bold, as much as I'm resolved to being honest, because she takes a deep, steadying breath and continues. "If you want to take a rain check on the story, you'll owe me a dance in the meantime."

I've never danced with anyone before, but I'm all for firsts if it means I'm with her. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

She smirks. "I guess we'll have to see, depending on what you decide." Her voice is light, airy, feigning innocence.

"What do you really think I'm going to pick?" I murmur into her ear.

I catch the first glimpse of her smile before she pulls away, sliding out of the booth. "A new song is about to start." The implication is clear: she's cashing in on her dance right now. _I'm so okay with that._

My need for her closeness keeps me within a foot of her at all times, her every move a command for me as well. She takes my hand in hers and guides us to the furthest corner of the dance floor closest to the bar just as the band starts in on a new song. Surprisingly, it's one I recognize. _**(Make It Rain - Ed Sheeran)**_

She stands in front of me, smiling shyly as the smooth sound crashes over us. Slowly and without coordination, we pull each other in and begin to sway to the music. Her arms wrap around my neck while mine hold her around her waist.

As the lyrics begin and we continue to move together, I press my forehead to hers, needing the connection as the words are formed by my own lips. They're sung so softly, I'm sure she doesn't actually hear them even if an octave lower than the lead singer's, but their need to be spoken, to be given to her, wins out over any ounce of reason.

 _When the sins of my father  
Weigh down in my soul  
And the pain of my mother  
Will not let me go  
Well I know there can come fire from the sky  
To refine the purest of kings  
And even though I know this fire brings me pain  
Even so and just the same_

 _Make it rain  
Make it rain down low  
Make it rain  
Oh make it rain  
Make it rain  
Make it rain down low  
Make it rain  
Make it rain_

 _The seed needs the water  
Before it grows out of the ground  
But it just keeps on getting hard  
And the hunger more profound  
Well I know there can come tears from the eye  
But they may as well be in vain  
Even though I know these tears come with pain  
Even so and just the same_

 _Make it rain  
Make it rain down low  
Make it rain  
Oh make it rain  
Make it rain  
Make it rain down low  
Just make it rain  
Make it rain_

I pull away from her to spin her, catching a glimpse of her look of awe and wonder as it quickly turns to one of surprise and thrilling joy as she twirls. Her laughter falls around her unabashedly, and it's one of the most beautiful moments I've ever been a part of. After she finishes her last rotation, we grab hold of each other to help her balance, her hands on my chest, one of mine on her hip while the other rests on her waist.

The moment is still as for just a heartbeat before the lyrics start in again, which seems to break Tris from the moment's hold. She pulls me back to start dancing, but this time feels different...

 _And the seas are full of water  
That stops by the shore  
Just like the riches of grandeur, oh no no  
Never reach the port  
And let the clouds fill with thunderous applause  
And let lightning be the veins  
That fill the sky  
With all that they can drop  
When it's time to make a change_

 _Make it rain  
Make it rain down low  
Make it rain  
Make it rain  
Make it rain  
Make it rain down low  
Make it rain  
Oh make it rain_

I don't know how I didn't notice her hand moving, but then I feel her soft fingertips smooth up my neck, over my cheek, back into my hair, curling into a gentle but determined hold. Her eyes hold mine as she pulls me in, her eyes fluttering shut just before our lips meet.

It starts soft, our lips just brushing together. The initial contact, however, sparks a hungry fire in both of us, fed by the music and each other's touch. When our lips meet a second time, it's insistent and intentional.

The kiss is a hint, not just of what is inevitable between us, but of what is inevitable of us; our own insistence, determination, strength. It's a testament of us, and even if we're not sure what exactly that means yet, I can feel it, just beneath the surface.

Our lips move together in sync as if they're familiar, guided by the steady rhythm of the song still playing around us, though everything else has faded away. She is warm and soft beneath my fingertips, and her lips taste sweet. _I could stay here forever…_

The music comes to an end before I'm ready for it, but she pulls away, anyway. Her bright eyes meet mine, sparkling happily as she rests her hands on my chest. "Wow," she whispers as her cheeks start to blossom with color.

"Wow," I repeat in response, and because I'm impatient and greedy and over-eager as all hell, I pull her back to my lips, my hands still wrapped around her waist. To my greatest relief, she doesn't resist, but rather reciprocates as if it's second nature.

Before long, the insistence of her lips matches the need I'm feeling, the rushing, demanding, forceful voice deep down that calls for closeness. We move together, our lips struggling to bridge the barriers that still remain, hands pulling closer, even when it doesn't exist. It's something like heaven, holding her close like this, feeling her lips moving with mine, the sweet scent that is her drawing me in deeper… _I will find out what that scent is-_

She pulls away, her sparkling eyes looking up at me happily as she captures her bottom lip shyly. It does not help me, but there's not a damn chance in hell that I'm making any effort to stop her. I love it too much.

It's in that moment that everything seems to settle into where it needs to be. The uncertainty we both carried had been heavier than I could have ever imagined, but now that it's gone, I feel nothing but bliss in this moment.

I know, now, that whatever happens, we'll be better for it, and I can't wait to see what happens.

 **AN- Well... That was fun. And those two songs... if you haven't listened to them, I recommend. I hope y'all enjoyed this, especially this nice moment.**

 **I just finished Ch 15 and I'm so excited to post it, but I've only just started on Ch 16. I have a few events still coming up, so I've been pretty busy, but I'm back to making steady progress. I got stuck on ONE PARAGRAPH for three. freaking. days. But, now all is good!**

 **Thank you all for the reviews and support! Things are starting to amp up, and some big moments are fast approaching. There's some big moments to come, and some big questions will be answered. I'm so excited for it to unfold! What are you all excited for most?**

 **-Willow**


	15. Chapter 15

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters do not belong to me. Characters and some ideas/quotes are based off that series. Etc etc etc_

 _Rated M for language, adult situations, etc_

Chapter Fifteen

I wake from nothing in particular. Unlike waking up yesterday morning on the hard floor, I feel well rested and content as I sit up in bed, not riddled with aches and pains. With a glance at the clock, I see it's a little after eight in the morning. _Did I seriously get a full night of sleep without nightmares? That's a first..._

There's no rush for me to get ready or anything, no plans until late morning, but I get ready anyway as a means of distraction. I'm a little antsy over the idea of meeting Tris' parents, which we agreed would happen tonight, but I'm determined to use my nervous energy to keep me focused. I've never really cared what people think of me before, but I know this is different. The reason they care so much is because they want what's best for their daughter. _Shit…_ Am _I what's best for their daughter?_

I'm just buttoning up my long sleeve grey shirt when I get a text. It'd be a lie if I said I wasn't hoping to see a text from Tris, but I come to find it's from an unknown number.

 _Unknown: Is this Tobias?_

 _Tobias: Depends on who's asking._

 _Unknown: Sorry, just wasn't sure if Marlene gave me the right number. This is Will, from yesterday._

 _Tobias: Oh, hey. How did Marlene have my number?_

I vaguely remember chatting with her briefly, with Will and Cara, before Tris took off running and I chased after her. As far as giving my number, though…

 _Will: Idk I just knew she'd be most likely to have all the numbers, so I asked her._

 _Tobias: Huh. Weird. Anyway, what's up?_

 _Will: Was wondering if you wanted to hang out, maybe grab some food. I really don't know anyone around here except my sister, who's with Susan, and Christina, whos over with your girl this morning._

 _Tobias: My girl?_

After the late night last night full of kisses and significant touches, I'll admit, that thought goes right to my head.

 _Will: I heard it from Christina that you two are on good terms now._

 _Tobias: In that regard you would be correct._

Even still, I can't keep the goddamn grin of satisfaction off my face. _If that's what Christina said-_

 _Will: So, that brings me back to this morning…_

 _Tobias: Shit, sorry. Yeah I've got some time. I'm suppose to go help Tris a little later on though._

 _Will: That's fine. Where's a good place to go?_

As I get my things together for the day and feed Pitch, who seems to think this house is home, now, Will and I decide on a place central to the both of us to go meet. I'm not used to hanging out with people I don't really know like this, but I have a feeling Will is going to be a much needed ally in the days to come. As he said, women can be unpredictable…

 _As if I'm not…_

Will is already at the little diner by the time I get there. He's fidgeting nervously with a cup of coffee, his shaggy hair a bit more mussed up than I think he intended.

He sighs out in relief as I slide into the booth across from him. "Hey, Tobias," he greets. "Sorry about earlier, I'm just not used to sitting around, doing nothing. Back home, I can't get away from people fast enough. Never thought I'd miss that."

I can't say I relate but I nod in understanding. "No problem. So, where's home?"

"St. Louis."

"Ah. Can't say I've ever been."

His lips twitch in an amused sort of way. "Can't say blame you."

A waitress comes and takes our orders. Will gets a full out meal, while I settle on some toast and a small bowl of fruit, not feeling particularly hungry just yet. Will and I talk for a while, Will talking about his life and schooling back home, and his time in Chicago. He seems like a decent guy, who keeps his personal life on the down low much like mine, which I can appreciate. Surface details are default.

"So, how long have you been in Chicago?" He's made it clear he came to help out his older sister, only saying he owed her, but not much more.

"Since after Christmas. Our parents decided to take a cruise to Hawaii, so Cara said we should explore Chicago early before we got too busy with the wedding. I should have known she'd ditch me, but I didn't, so now I'm here."

"That sucks, man," I sympathize. "So, what have you been doing with all this time?"

He huffs out a laugh. "That's the problem. I'm going crazy with how little I've done."

Will spends a significant amount of time talking about what he keeps busy with, between med school, his occasional weekend camping or fishing trips he takes with housemates, and all the other shit he lists off. It carries so long that we've started our meals before he stops.

"I never considered myself that social until now," he concludes with a sigh.

"Well, you certainly are more than I am. Even this is out of the ordinary for me," I say.

Will cringes. "I used to be able to say the same myself, but apparently that's not true any longer."

I'm about to answer when I get yet another text from an unknown number.

 _Unknown: You owe me._

My face must be fifty shades of confused because Will cautiously asks, "Everything good?" I show him the text and he shares my expression. "Okay, that's definitely weird."

"Damn unknown numbers," I groan as I text back.

 _Tobias: Who is this?_

They answer back pretty quickly, as if they were waiting and watching their phone in order to reply at once.

 _Unknown: The same person that ensured last night went well._

 _Tobias: Pretty sure that doesn't help me. At all._

 _Unknown: That's not my problem._

At this point, I'm a bit irritated that they won't just tell me, but I'm willing myself to be patient.

 _Unknown: All that matters right now is that you show up._

 _Tobias: Show up where?_

 _Unknown: Tris' house. One hour. Be there._

 _Unknown: You can thank me later._

I slide the phone over to Will and he examines what the person wrote, his face reflecting as much confusion as I feel. "You already had plans with her, didn't you?"

Nodding, I take back my phone, though I have no idea what to reply back.

 _Tobias: That's all I get?_

 _Unknown: From me, yes._

My mind takes that last reply straight to the gutter, but no amount of shame can stop my mind from conjuring up scenarios too vivid to be safe for public. _God, I must look-_

"What's with the face?" Will asks, biting back a smirk. "Tris text you?"

I can feel my goddamn ears burning so brightly in embarrassment, it'd put the red light district to shame. "Uh, not exactly," I mutter, willing myself to pull it together. _How am I going to handle being around her if I can't even talk about her without facing an embarrassing reaction?!_

"What does that even mean?" Will asks, chuckling.

"It means the conversation was about Tris, so I was thinking about her," I say honestly, because I'm suddenly .5 seconds away from total nervous breakdown. "I'm only now remembering how little I know about _this_." I gesture at my phone hopelessly. "I've managed so far on sheer luck alone, but I'm pretty sure it's about to run out real fast when I meet her parents tonight." I groan at the thought.

"Nah, man, you'll be fine," Will tries to reassure, but it feels hollow to me.

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "You're speaking from experience?"

"Aren't you?" Will asks, though he suddenly seems to see my implication.

I know I should probably be embarrassed to admit what I'm about to, but I've found that, especially lately, I have little time for anything but the truth. "I've never even dated before. Never felt interested. So, now that it _matters_ , I'm hopeless." I'm starting to see what Zeke meant about experience, but I'm not convinced his particular method is any better.

"Shit," Will huffs out in surprise.

"Yeah," I groan.

Will frowns at me, considering his response carefully before going through with it. "What's the plan, then?"

I shrug before I can even think about it. "I'm going over to help her work on stuff for the wedding for the rest of the day. Then tonight, I'll be staying for dinner with her family, seeing as her parents haven't met me yet."

Will bites back a smug look. "That rules out some things you two could do."

The look I give him is equal to any I'd give Zeke, but Will hardly knows me, so every ounce of color drains from his face. I'd apologize, but it'd be good for him to learn sooner rather than later that this is not a joke to me, and I'm not in this merely for whatever he's implying.

"Sorry," he stammers out uncomfortably. "I was just trying to keep it light."

I force myself to release as much tension as possible with a swift exhale. _Quit pushing everyone away when they're just trying to help you, dumb ass!_ "'s alright," I shrug out. "It's not that I'm not _very interested_ ," I say quietly, adding in a grumbled, 'apparently," at the end, hoping he doesn't catch it, but of fucking course he does. If I could wipe that smug look off his face in a nice way, I would, but I've never been known for my kindness, so I do nothing.

"So, what's the problem?" Will asks, seriously.

It's going to come across wrong, I know it, but I answer anyway. "I want more than just… you know..." _Real fucking mature, Tobias. Can't even say the damn words like a_ child. Will catches it, too, raising an eyebrow in question. " _Fine_. It's not about sex, with her... I can honestly say that wasn't even really a thought until yesterday."

Will seems surprised by my honesty. "You weren't attracted to her at first?"

I shake my head quickly. "I didn't say that..." I don't look at him, too damn ashamed of my word vomit. _I'm never like this... What is_ happening?! "When I first saw her, we were standing in line to go through TSA, and she was bickering with the douchebag, Eric. I noticed their noise first, but the moment I saw her, I was hopelessly drawn to her. There were times I could even _feel_ her looking at me, I was that aware. I haven't been able to get her out of my head since."

"Okay, yeah, that certainly is an example of what you'd call attraction," he says lightly, as if he were reading off a fact from a textbook.

"Ya think?" I deadpan.

He just grins, like he's having a grand ol' time. "So, what changed? Why all worried now?"

Embarrassment swoops over me again, burning up the back of my neck. Still, I ignore the shame in the pit of my stomach and answer honestly. "It started with a dream I had the night before last," I get out, though I don't dare look at Will as I say it. "That much would have been fine if it didn't keep popping up when she's with me, because then it makes me crazy… It's like I need her closeness, or else I'll explode or something."

"Okay yeah _that's_ called an erection," he barely gets out through his smug expression before busting up laughing. I'm sure the look I give him is pretty bad, but he's too caught up laughing to really notice. I guess I should have probably seen that one coming…

He does relent, though, before he speaks again. "So, I'm guessing you two haven't really talked about that or anything?"

"Not really," I say with a shrug, though I still think about it for a minute. "Other than last night, when she, uh, noted my, uh, you know, _predicament_ …"

To Will's credit, he keeps a straight face for a three seconds after the words leave my mouth before he cracks up. _I definitely walked right into that one._ It takes an insufferable amount of time before Will can even form a coherent thought again, let alone voice one. "You two gonna need chaperones this afternoon, or will the thought of her parents' imminent return home be enough to kill the mood?"

My glare must be more intense than intended, because Will's smile actually falters. _Sucker_. "Sorry, I just- I- Let's just move on." He shifts in his seat, trying to ease the tension he's suddenly accumulated. "What's your guys' relationship, now, anyway? Are you just staying friends, dating, friends with benefits?"

"Friends with..? No, what the fuck, Will?"

He throws his hands up defensively. "No judgement, man, just didn't want to assume…"

"Hm," I grunt, still not happy. "To answer your question, we haven't exactly defined anything. Long story short, we're seeing where a week takes us."

Will stares at me for a moment, his expression blank, and oddly enough, it becomes a raging source of anxiety for me. When he does speak, it's slowly, as if he's controlling himself. "When was that decided? Before or after she noticed your _predicament_?" He says the last word as awkwardly as I had, and I know that for the rest of my life, this moment will find its way back to embarrass me.

"Before, when we went for dessert and hot chocolate."

He stares again, though he catches himself faster this time. "And then you two went out and had a moment? How did she react?"

My neck is on fire again, but I don't shy away from the interrogation. "We were at a bar, listening to live music. We did end up dedicating an ample amount of our time together just to kissing, but other than that, all she said about it was… I don't know, something about maybe being a little flattered?"

Will's eyebrows shoot up. "She wasn't drunk, was she?"

"She hadn't drank anything since she left the fittings at Marlene's," is all I can account for, though I'm not sure what he's getting at.

The corners of his lips twitch in amusement, I'm sure over my baffled expression. "I'm no expert on women, but I'm willing to bet that was a good sign, what she said."

I let myself think about it, even if just to entertain the idea. While I can see what he means, I'm more inclined to judge her feelings based on the whole evening. _Even still, I think I'm in the clear._

"So, humor me, if it is a good thing, what now?" I ask, trying to keep my imagination's interpretation of the possibility at bay.

Will shrugs casually. "You're gonna have to play it by ear. Don't overthink it, and just follow her lead."

I nod in understanding even though I don't really understand, not finding any help in that advice. "And what if it _wasn't_ a good sign?"

"Relax, man. It'll be fine. Like I said, just follow her lead. Trust me, she'll give you cues." He must see the lack of reassurance, because he sighs, almost in pity. _This is so fucking embarrassing!_

"If your _predicament_ was as telling as I'm sure it was, judging by the look on your face, and she still even _implied_ being interested or flattered? At the very least, she's comfortable around you. Good sign. She's obviously comfortable being _alone_ with you. Even better sign. Making consistent or even constant eye contact and physical contact in general? Also good signs. You get the idea. When all else fails, you can either just ask her how she feels and what she wants, or you can wait for her to ask you. Trust me, though, she won't mind you asking."

I nod, understanding, even if it doesn't put all my nerves to rest. "Well, can't really argue that."

He grins. "Damn straight."

We finish up our meals and pay before heading our separate ways. Even though nerves are threatening to undo me, I'm just as happy and excited. Being around her makes everything better and I just can't seem to get enough. _Is that even possible?_

I'm minutes short of the hour I was given by the unknown number to get to her house, parked out front. Tris said her parents are both out at work, her brother with Susan, so I know it's just her inside. Christina had been here earlier, but her car isn't out front, so I assume she's left already. It'll just be us… As nervous as I am, I buck up and decide to just go up now.

As I'm going up the steps, I see a fat grey cat perched on the front step, watching me carefully. Its fur is long and neat, which means he must be well cared for, unlike how Pitch usually is. As I get to the top of the steps, it looks at me with pale green eyes and mewls curiously.

I can't help but kneel down and pet the cat. It seems content with my affection, pushing its head into my hand insistently, which makes me laugh. "Yes, hello," I say to the cat. "Is this your house?" I ask as if it could answer.

The front door opens quickly, startling both myself and the cat. The animal flinches from the sound, but then mewls happily again at the sight I, too, have been distracted by. Tris stands framed in the doorway, her expression bright as she takes in the sight before her. Without much thinking, I stand as my eyes look her over.

Her hair falls in soft waves, which catch the light, giving her a golden glow. She's wearing a white blouse with three quarter sleeves and a neckline that forms a deep v, hinting at the soft swell of her chest without actually showing much. The material is light, just veiling her body, though sure to catch and frame every little hint of curve she has, which is more than I think she accounts for.

To make matters worse, if worse is even an appropriate word for this situation considering I'm more than content with the view, the outside lighting makes is that the shirt is _just barely_ sheer enough to see the outline of her shape beneath it. Her tight, black pants do little to help matters, the way they cling to her, too. There's no escaping it, no overlooking how attracted I am to her...

 _She's so breathtaking…_

"May I kiss you?"

I don't think she expected me to ask that, because I definitely didn't, but her smile is genuine as she nods quickly. _Yes!_

Without another thought, my lips claim hers. She reciprocates happily and without hesitation, wrapping her arms around my neck as we press together. My lips are insistent, but soft, moving over her lips lightly, though my hands are a bit more stubborn, grabbing onto her waist securely. Her lips taste sweet, like something fruity, and it makes me absolutely hungry for more.

 _Slow down, there, cowboy._

With a final little squeeze of her waist, I reluctantly pull my lips away and watch her face. Her eyes remain closed for the space it takes for me to inhale deeply, reveling in the sweetness of the perfume she always seems to be wearing. _Damn... who knew a smell could be so powerful?_

When her eyes flutter open, it's to an ecstatic expression, full of light and joy. Her lips curl in a sweet smile, which I can't help reciprocating. "Hi," I say, squeezing her waist again, which she seems to like. The way her eyes flash when I do it is answer enough for me.

"Hi," she whispers shyly to me in return. "Making friends with Misty?"

I nod. "Is she yours?"

"The neighbor's," she says, nodding at the house next to hers. "She just likes to come for treats. My mom is sweet with her, and I inherited it."

It's hard to keep the smile from taking over, but she doesn't seem to mind. "You are pretty sweet," I say with a wink.

She quirks an eyebrow at me. "Says the one down on his knees petting a stranger's cat."

We share a little laugh, which is blissful, considering we're still pressed close together. _Watch yourself, Tobias._ "What can I say? She's a nice cat, and I thought she was yours. I had to get acquainted."

She giggles. "I wish she was mine, she's a sweetheart."

I nod, agreeing. "I'm not usually a cat person, but she's one of two that I get along well with."

She cocks her head out of curiosity. "And the other?"

I squeeze her waist again, the cold starting to become biting. Besides, a little bit more privacy would be nice. "I'll tell you inside, if that's alright?"

She flushes deeply, as if she forgot all about being outside. "Oh! Yeah," she says, releasing her hold on me and stepping aside to let me in. Once we're in, I turn back to her, caught up in everything that's her. I want to close the space between us again, but I know we do have work to do, so I resist.

"So, this other cat. Is it yours?" she asks as she's shaking her head. _Maybe she's just as distracted as I am?_

"Not exactly," I laugh. "He's pretty much a street cat, and he started following me around when I was a teenager. He turned up at my house when I came back, so he's been hanging around the past few days."

She's giving me this look that's soft and warm, turning my insides into jello, but I can't exactly complain. Heat starts to crash over me in waves, but somehow resist the urge to close the space between us.

"Sounds like he chose you," she chuckles, taking a step closer to me before she seems to think better of it, sidestepping me and heading for the dining room. It takes me a second to pull my shit together before I follow her there.

"I guess he kind of did," I say, after thinking about it. "I could probably take him home with me and no one would know the difference."

The dining room table is covered with an assortment of items, from vases to small iridescent marbles, purple cloth flowers to silver feathers. Tris starts arranging everything on the table so there's room to work. "You should," she says finally. She flashes a cute smile at me before she continues. "I want to meet this other cat you speak of. If he can make friends with you, then he must be something special."

There's no hiding my smirk when I reply with, "Well, it does take something pretty special to grab my attention." Thankfully she giggles, despite what the color on her cheeks might otherwise suggest, though I still move to break any tension. "So, what's the plan, boss?"

"Well, we're putting together decorations and centerpieces." She nods for me to sit at the table, and I do as I'm told. Seeing as she's more crafty than I am, she sets me to the task of putting the centerpieces together, since it's pretty cut and dry.

She sets one of the vases in front of me, standing behind me and reaching over my shoulders to show me what to do. "Start with the beads," she says, taking one of the bags and carefully pouring them to fill it about three quarters of the way full.

Though I'm watching her carefully, I'm still significantly distracted by the feel of her pressing against my back warming me considerably, the smell of her perfume intoxicating me, the sound of her voice so soft in my ear it's sending currents of electricity through every nerve ending. _Does she have any idea the effect she has on me?_

"Next, put the lilacs in," she says, grabbing four bunches of the flowers. "Three of them will be level with each other," she narrates, before she places the last bunch in the center, but elevated higher. "The last goes like so," she states, carefully adjusting the flowers to be exactly right. "I haven't lost you, have I?" she teases, her lips so dangerously close to my ear, I'm sure she feels the shiver that travels down my spine in response.

"I'm ready for more," I tell her. Once again, I'm not sure if I want her to catch my double meaning. I can't even be sure if I intended to say it, but now that the words are out there, there's no taking them back. They're not exactly untrue, either.

Because she's behind me, I can't see her expression to judge her reaction, but at the feel of her frustratingly soft lips brushing a light kiss across a sensitive spot of my neck, I figure I'm in the clear. She presses into me more, leaning to reach for three of the long, silver feathers before she carefully wedges them between each bundle on the lower tier of flowers. "These go in the spaces," she narrates again, though her voice is softer, rich and heavy.

Then I watch her grab a length of braided ribbons comprised of two shades of purple and silver, wrapping it around the neck of the vase and tying the ends of it intricately. I watch her fingers maneuver deftly, which is affecting me way more than I care admit. By the end of her working her magic, it looks like a flower. "Don't worry about that part. That's one of my jobs," she says softly, the warmth of her words tickling my ear and sending chills down my spine again.

 _Goddamn… this girl is gonna be the death of me._

She pulls away from me completely before settling into the seat beside me, leaving me feeling cold in her absence. "I'll do the ribbon work, so this part will go by pretty quickly. This is the easy part."

We ease into a routine, working in a warm, comfortable silence. Occasionally, I get distracted by her fast working fingers, quickly braiding the strands of ribbon together before arranging the flower-like design. It's as if her fingers move on fast forward, in a well-practiced motion.

"Growing up, my mom volunteered to help with weddings a lot," Tris says softly as she begins her ninth flower. "She loved to decorate, especially, and she would make these beautiful ribbon flowers. Mom said she learned it from her great-grandmother in third grade, just before she died. Mom always remembered, and loved to make them, because it reminded her of her childhood. I thought they were amazing, so she taught me, and ever since, I'd help her in making them."

"So, it's like a tradition of sorts?" I ask her as I arrange the feathers into the arrangement I'm working on.

She smiles faintly. "I guess so. I mean, it'd be something I'd teach a daughter, if I had one someday."

I entertain a brief vision of Tris sitting with a little girl much like her, her arms wrapped around her to better show her how to make those flowers. I can practically see Tris' smile of pure joy, watching the girl try and try before finally getting it right, her little face alight with accomplishment.

"That'd be a really special experience for her," is all I can say, lost in the thought of it.

She doesn't say anything, and when I look over at her, she's smiling faintly, probably just as lost in it as I am. "Yeah," is all she breathes out.

We go back to working quietly, but it's still comfortable. By arrangement number seventeen, a timer goes off, and Tris jumps. "Dinner!" she yelps, as if just remembering something.

"Seems a bit early, don't ya think?" I tease her, knowing full well that's not what she meant.

"Oh, hush," she laughs. "I just have to start part of it, is all."

She disappears behind me into the kitchen for a few minutes as I work some more, carefully putting together the arrangements. I'll say, they don't look too shabby, but it's not exactly rocket science. I'm just glad I can be of actual help to her.

"These are looking great, by the way," Tris comments as she sits back down next to me. We both go back to working, each of us lost in our own thoughts. When she does break the silence, her voice is serious. "I'm really glad you're here, Tobias. I probably could have managed by myself, but it's nice having you here with me. I really enjoy it… spending time with you."

When I turn to look at her, it's to find her eyes already trained on me, her expression comfortable and content. My heart skips happily in response, as if it thinks she can hear the wild beats in my chest. Who knows, maybe she can, the way it's carrying on?

"I know what you mean," I say.

She smiles brightly, relief evident on her face. I reach over and hold her hand briefly, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I can honestly say my time with you has been the highlight of this trip. You've taken what would have been some pretty miserable days and made them, well, worth remembering… worth living. It's nice, being happy. Usually, that doesn't happen when Marcus is involved…"

My voice trails off, my eyes falling to the table, lost in thought. I can feel her squeeze my hand like I had, and it really does seem to soothe me. "He shouldn't be able to take anything more from you. You deserve happiness, even if just in small moments."

I force my eyes back up to hers, searching them. "Small moments? I hope you know that's not how I see the moments I've shared with you."

This might be a bit much for an admission at this point, but I'm still determined to be honest. I've got about four or five days left before I have to fly back to Arizona. I'm going to use that time to the best of my ability, and honesty is pretty effective that way.

"Well, I just meant, I don't know, just that…" She bites her lip, not able to counter her initial statement, which only proves that's exactly how she saw it.

I watch her for a second, partly distracted by the overall effect she has on me, but mostly lost trying to figure out how to convince her… convince her that I am inexplicable drawn to her beyond any shadow of a doubt. She's also the only one who understands me beyond words, and she clicks with me in ways that feel so natural.

Zeke would have a fucking field day if he could hear me, giving me shit about being a sap or whatever bullshit term he has for it, but I couldn't care less. Maybe I _am_ falling for this woman, and falling hard and fast at that. For the first time in my existence, that idea hasn't felt like anything but a dream come true.

"You are anything but a small moment, Tris. You coming into my life was anything but small or subtle. It was like stepping into an entirely new universe, the way everything just shifted. I can't even say there's a rhyme or reason to it, but I've just found myself wanting to go with it without question. Like I said, something about you convinced me early on that was the way to go, and it's only brought me… well, this," I say, looking at her.

She seems a little nervous, but there's a light hopefulness behind it. "I'm not sure what to make of that statement," she admits.

"It means every encounter with you brings something… beyond the realm of previous experience, but in the best way. So, no, you're not the small moments Not to me." My voice trails off again, losing my nerve out of fear of coming off too strong.

She looks at me with a deep expression. "Do you really mean that, Tobias?"

I nod honestly, making sure my eyes stay locked with hers. "Absolutely."

She bites her lip, her eyes full of nervousness. "Well, then, I guess the feeling is mutual."

My chest swells with pure joy, bringing on a smile to match. I can't help it as I lean in, though I hesitate before going in all the way, begging permission. She smiles faintly before releasing her lip and meeting me the rest of the way.

It starts of soft and sweet but quickly heightens. As much as I want to indulge it, that's a dangerous path to travel right now. I need to keep myself under control, so I reluctantly break the kiss long before either of us seems to be satisfied.

"Umm, you, uh…" She's flustered and distracted, as am I, but I offer her no help by staring into her eyes, lost and still content. "Uh… hungry?"

"Mm," I hum as I lean forward, more boldly than I'd ever have thought I could manage, putting my lips just next to her ear to murmur, "Depends."

I can feel her shiver, hear her heavy exhale. _Holy… shit… If only she knew..._

I pull away in time to see her glazed over, heavily lidded eyes, bottom lip swollen from her biting it, skin flush with feeling. Seeing her like this is… something beyond words.

"What are you hungry for?" she asks softly as she watches me carefully.

That question strikes me through to my core like lightning, and I can't hold back the growl-like sound that rumbles in my chest. "Tris…" I shake my head, watching her face carefully as an adorably smug look flashes in her eyes.

She giggles, finally, before leaning forward to leave a chaste kiss on my cheek. "C'mon, let's have some lunch."

 **AN: Thank you all for your continued support and especially your patience! These past two weeks have been so busy with concerts, appointments, and work, and this chapter has been the hardest in editing for me. You reach a point where there's only so many times you can reread the same thing haha.**

 **I'm so touched with all the reviews of chapter 14 as well as all the reviews from new readers. You all are so kind, and I promise, this story is still moving forward! These next couple chapters might be a little slower coming out, because there's so much going on and I want to make sure I get all the elements in, because there are some big, exciting events coming up! I'm about finished writing 16, so I'm still aiming for next Monday to post. Until then, thank you all again!**

 **-Willow**


	16. Chapter 16

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent, its characters, its quotes, etc._

 _Rated M for language, sexual situations, etc._

 **AN- Just wanted to say, while writing this chapter, a song came on and it's sound just seemed to fit perfectly with what I was writing, so I threw in the title and artist at that part, if you'd like some background music! (I totally recommend you do! It's not exactly 'cuz the lyrics or anything, I just think the sound is perfect for what is happening in that scene.)**

Chapter Sixteen

Tris leads me into the kitchen before turning to me, her eyes still bright. "I have makings for sandwiches, soup… um, I'm sure there's other stuff, I could-"

"Sandwiches sound good," I interrupt, so she doesn't have to fuss. "Doesn't have to be anything fancy. All I care about is the company that comes with it." I try to keep up my nerve by giving her a wink.

She accepts it with a small smile before she turns to the fridge, pulling out various fixings and placing them on the island behind her. When the countertop is covered with various food, she sighs in accomplishment before continuing her work, this time pulling plates, utensils, and other dishes she may need.

We work quietly together in comfortable silence standing side by side at the island, other than asking to pass something now and then. Tris makes several extra sandwiches as we go about, which confuses me, though I choose not to say anything about it.

As if on cue, though, Tris tells me, "My mom makes lunch for a few women she knows. When she can't bring them during the afternoon, because she's at work, she drops them off in the mornings. Seeing as I'm here, though, I offered to do it for her."

"Mm, going for the beautiful philanthropist look today, then?" I tease her, referring back to what Lynn had commented when they met.

"You're never going to forget that, are you?" she asks with a light laugh.

"What, the truth? Never." We both share a laugh at that as we continue our tasks, me in washing and chopping up fruit while Tris makes seven turkey and Swiss sandwiches for us and the people she'll be taking them to.

We both finish around the same time, so I help her put away the food and unused items, leaving the dirty dishes in the sink to do after we've eaten. "Let's eat first, then we can deliver the lunches. It's a little early for them, anyway." We each spoon some fruit salad on our plates with our sandwiches, and Tris grabs a bag of potato chips as we head back out to the dining room, using our work stations to eat.

As I sit down, Tris heads back to the kitchen to bring us each some water to drink, which I accept gratefully. We sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Tris begins talking about the people her mom goes to visit. "Two go to our neighbor, Joyce, and her daughter, Rosie. They're Misty's owners. Joyce is a long time friend of my mom's. When my family first moved here, Joyce would help her out, seeing as my mom didn't have her own mom to help her. Eventually, as we got older, Joyce would watch us after school, until one of my parents could get home. She's very kind and definitely… interesting."

"Interesting?" I ask through a laugh that escapes me at her look of her amusement.

"If you thought Christina was blunt…" Tris shakes her head. "She's kinda quirky, but as I said, truly the nicest lady. Rosie has required a lot of special and intensive care over the years, for at least as long as since we first met them, and that would have made her a teenager, and Joyce stays home full time with her. She's patient and gentle with her, but funny and kind of feisty with everyone else. Honestly, she's the closest thing to a grandmother I've ever had."

She looks a little sad as she says it, but she does a good job of masking most of it. She shakes her head a little in an attempt to clear it, before she continues. "The rest go to this house down the street. There's a few women that my mom used to work with that do some caretaking there. My mom likes to bring them lunch, to keep in touch and, well, it makes my mom happy. They're really nice."

"Well, if you say so, I believe it."

She smiles sweetly at me, a look that makes my chest warm before we each turn back to finish our lunches. When I finish first, I stand up and stretch, intending to head onto the kitchen to start washing up, though Tris tries to stop me.

"You don't know where everything goes," she laughs after my stubborn ass insists.

"I watched you bring it all out, I think I can figure it out," I say, flashing her a smile. "C'mon, please? You brought me here to help."

She narrows her eyes at me suspiciously but ultimately nods. "Fine, I'll allow it."

Though Tris lets me start on the dishes, it's not long before she joins me, standing beside me to dry the dishes that I've cleaned. When they're all put away, Tris begins wrapping the remaining sandwiches in parchment paper, placing each one in an individual brown paper bag. I peak inside one of them as she goes, finding each contains a small bottle of water, a little bag of chips, a fruit cup, some homemade cookies, a napkin and a plastic spoon.

"Looks like your mom has this down to a fine science," I note, nodding towards the bags.

"Just about," Tris replies with a slight smile. Once each bag has its sandwich placed inside, she folds up the bag and sets it aside.

When they're all ready, she packs them into a shoulder bag before turning to me. "It won't take me very long to deliver these, so if you want to just relax while I'm gone," she starts, slinging the bag over her shoulder, but I don't let her continue.

"Or I could come with you? Unless you prefer to take the trip alone," I say more nervously than I really care to admit, afraid my suggestion is overstepping.

She looks guilty. "I don't want to drag you around in the cold..."

"Tris, it's fine. More than fine, actually. I like spending the time with you," I tell her honestly.

Her cheeks flush a bit at that comment, but she doesn't comment on it, only nods and concedes, "Well, if you insist…"

"I do," I say with a smile. "So, where to first?"

We head next door first. Tris has a key, so we go inside without knocking. The floor plan is very similar to Tris' house, so even I could find my way around the first floor. We head back to the dining room where a middle aged woman dressed in all black sits, her back perfectly straight. She's reading a book, strands of her short mousy dark grey hair almost blocking the view of one of her brown eyes as she scribbles some information down on a paper, though she does look up at the sound of us entering.

"Oh, if it isn't my sweet Birdie," the woman says tiredly, but happily as she stands, pushing a smile onto her face. They hug for a moment before Tris hands over two of the sack lunches. "As kind as ever," Joyce says with a little smile, but then her eyes land on me, only just now noticing that I'm there. "You brought a friend."

Tris steps back next to me, smiling brightly. "Yes, this is Tobias. Tobias, this is Joyce," she introduces us and we shake hands.

"Hello, Tobias. You taking good care of my sweet girl?" she teases me.

I can't help carrying on her train of thought with a smile. "Working on it, but I still have to earn the privilege. Not that she needs my help," I add with a little chuckle.

Joyce's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but then she smiles. "I already like you, Tobias. So, how do you two know each other?"

Tris bites her lip, her eyes voicing a discomfort I can't account for, but I don't mention it yet. "We met at the airport on our way here. Since the flight was delayed by several hours, we had plenty of time to talk and get to know each other. I must have done something right if she's kept me around," I say with a half smile. When I glance back at her, she's looking at me like she can hardly tell if I'm real. _Is that a good thing?_

When I look away, it's to find Joyce looking at Tris, too, but her expression is vastly different than mine. Her eyes are alight with joy, maybe even pride. Tris is too busy burning bright red to really notice the intensity of it. "How lovely," Joyce says genuinely, though her expression has turned to one of complete mischief. _I see what Tris was talking about._

"Yeah," is all I say, unsure of what to do with that response.

"So, what brings you to Chicago, Tobias?" She's turned her attention fully to me, and she seems truly interested.

Tris and I both tense at the question, but I try to be as honest as possible. "Funeral. There's been a lot of arrangements with the business and estate that I've been asked to see to, so I had to take a week or so to work through everything."

Joyce nods in understanding. "I understand that. It was like that when Rodney died. That's my husband," she says sadly. "I couldn't believe all the hoops I had to jump to make arrangements, as well as grieve." She sighs as she looks at Tris, who has offered a sympathetic look. "Well, I'm glad you two have hit it off. Having some fun along the way will save your sanity." She smirks, giving a wink to Tris, who somehow goes right back to blushing furiously, if not even more red in the face.

Then Joyce frowns, as if she only just remembered something. "Say, what ever happened to that guy your dad had around? What was his name, Aaron? Emmett? Enrique? Ebeneezer?"

Tris and I choke on our laughter at her kidding. "Eric," Tris says giggling. Joyce just shrugs unapologetically. "He and I are no longer in association," Tris says rather stiffly.

"Oh, good,"Joyce huffs out in relief. "Now I can stop bothering your mother about how I don't like him. He's no good for you, honey, and when you've got real gentlemen still in waiting, like _Tobias_ here, you're better off focusing your attention elsewhere." She smiles widely as she adds, "And sooner rather than later, my Birdie girl, before someone else beats you to it!"

Okay, _now_ I see what Tris was talking about. When I chance a glance, her eyes are closed like she's trying to disappear. It's so goddamn adorable, I just want to draw her into my arms, plant a kiss on her head. I want her here, right here, with me, and it kind of kills me that she might think otherwise.

So I nudge her with my elbow, turn my head and lean a little down so I can drop my voice a bit softer. "I think she's trying to steal me away from you."

Tris opens her eyes, their color pure and bright as they gaze into mine. When she smiles, my heart swells as I eagerly return it. She shakes her head vaguely before she turns back to Joyce. "I've always admired your wisdom. What exactly would you suggest?"

Joyce's face twists up in thought. "Hm, well, there's there's always chaining him up in the basement."

"What?" I ask a little too quickly.

"No, I have to be able to show him off," Tris whines before she turns to me and winks. Oh… _Oh!_ "What else?"

Joyce crosses her arms across her chest as she moves to lean against the wall, thinking again. "Hmm, what about handcuffs? Where you go, he'll have to follow."

We all laugh at that one. Tris turns to me, her eyes finding mine, and my heart starts to skip ecstatically. She seems content with just sharing a look with me, but my brain is too caught up to stop while it's ahead.

"I'd follow you anywhere, even without handcuffs, though they certainly would add an element of fun."

Wave after wave of embarrassment crash over me once it sinks in that I said that out loud, but the emotion in her eyes keeps me from turning away or even breaking eye contact. While my humor isn't missed, that's not what captures her attention. Though I can't say for certain exactly how she feels on the matter, all I can tell is that what she feels is _good_.

"Like I said, Birdie, sooner rather than later," Joyce chirps. All Tris can do is smile at her, and it's more than I could have ever hoped for.

We chat with Joyce for a few minutes more before we say goodbye and head down the street, taking a soft left at the intersection and walking on to the second house on this block. It's a two story red brick house with white columns, cornice brackets, and flower boxes overflowing with red blossoms hanging from each of the three upper story windows.

After Tris knocks, a stout middle aged woman greets us each with a hug, even though she has no idea who the hell I am. Tris smiles at me apologetically as the woman introduces herself as Desiree. We exchange a little small talk, but Desiree is still working, so it's not too long before we hand over the lunches before she returns inside.

As we turn to head back to Tris' house, I reach for her hand, but stop before I make contact. Though she _seems_ okay with me moving forward, she's not really voiced what she wants, and I'm starting to realize guessing is not enough. I need to know she's okay with the moments we've shared.

I don't get a chance to ask, because her fingers lace with mine. I can't help but laugh a little before I admit, "Your ability to read my mind is a little bit nerve-wracking."

"Read your mind?" She looks at me in surprise, though with a hint of interest.

"Yeah. I wanted to hold your hand, just didn't know how to ask without being even more awkward that I already am." A nervous, wavering laugh escapes me, my embarrassment coming back in waves again.

"You don't have to ask," she says surely. "Maybe it's not such a good idea to do it when my dad is around just yet, because he can be… well, he may feel the need to get _involved_ , but over time, I hope he'll come around. I mean, if he can even tolerate Eric…" Her voice trails off, lost in thought.

I let her think as we continue forward, taking a right to head up the block to her house. This day is the warmest of all the days I've been here, and while it still requires a jacket, thankfully a heavy duty one isn't necessary. It's warm enough that almost all the remaining snow from the storm that delayed our flight has melted, leaving the roads oddly wet for such a sunny day.

I can just start to make out her house up the street when she pulls us to a stop outside a dental office. "Is everything okay?" I ask her, concerned by the way she's looking at me, like I'm slipping away.

She shrugs her shoulders a little, unsure what to say. She pulls her hand away from mine, using it to hide her eyes for a moment. She seems… conflicted.

"Tris? What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, like she can't say anything, but she does anyway. "I'll be fine, I just… I'm not ready to talk about it, but I feel... guilty," She trails off, unwilling to say any more.

"Guilty for what?" I ask, confused and desperate to understand.

She bites her lip, considering her response carefully before releasing a measured breath. "I want to talk to you about some things… No, I _need_ to, but I'm not ready for that, yet. I feel guilty because the _right_ thing to do would be to keep my distance until I can muster up the decency to talk to you about it, but I can't seem to stop myself from gravitating _towards_ you." She sighs heavily, her body suddenly screaming exhaustion. "What's worse is, a big part of me doesn't seem to care. I'm _happy_ when things progress, which for the record is so not what typically happens with me for, uh... _reasons_ … yet another subject we need to broach before... _fuck!_ " She turns away from me, clearly flustered with herself.

I try not to panic, try not to dwell or obsess on the information, but rather focus on this woman I care so much about. She's a mystery in so many senses, and I just want to understand her and use that to be there in whatever way she needs and wants.

Wants…

I have to keep my thoughts focused on the present situation. "I don't want you to feel guilty." I carefully pull her back to face me, using one hand to hold hers and the other to tilt her to face me straight on.

"I can't help it," she whispers, hurt heavy in her voice. "I need to tell you. I just, I _can't_ right now… My parents…" Her voice trembles, which strikes my nerves in a painful way.

"Tris, I understand. You have a few days, take the time you need. I won't lie, I have things to tell you, too, but we have time," I promise. "In the meantime, don't worry about me. I am more than happy with the way things have, what did you say, progressed?" She nods. "Right, so, don't worry about me. I'm… going to be fine, no matter what you decide, including about what happens in the meantime."

She's back to biting her bottom lip nervously, trying to define my vague sentiment in all its possibilities, but I can also see her actively working to be brave. Sometimes, moments like these do need bravery. _I should know… Aren't I just as terrified as she is?_

She looks like she's about to say something, but everything seems to stop when a car whips around a corner to tear down the alley we're standing by, driving right through a puddle that sends a towering wall of water right at us. The way we're standing, with her closer to the alley than I am, she gets the worst of it. She's practically soaked head to toe, while only my torso gets drenched.

The water is absolutely freezing, and Tris makes a high pitched squeak in response to the cold. "Shit," I breathe out, the material of my shirt sucking against my skin uncomfortably underneath my jacket. I can't even begin to imagine how uncomfortable she must feel right now, especially in soaked jeans. "Let's get back to your house," I suggest, nodding in its direction. Tris nods in agreement as she shivers, sending droplets of water flying as we move quickly to the house.

We stumble into the entryway before Tris begins assessing our clothes, starting by stripping her soaked jacket. I'm busy doing the same when I hear a whispered, _"Shit!"_ from Tris, and I can't help turning to look at her, only to turn right back around quickly.

The water more than soaked through her jacket, drenching her white blouse completely, rendering it see through. Even in just the split second I was turned toward her, I could see every dip and curve of her torso, every line of her bra, and while turning away was the last thing on my mind, I'm worried I still managed to fuck this up big time. "I-I'm sorry, Tris, I didn't even think-"

"It's okay," she squeaks out, embarrassed. _She shouldn't be…_ "How are your clothes?"

"My pants are fine, but my jacket is soaked through, and my shirt got quite a bit, too."

She doesn't respond right away, but seeing as I'm not facing her, I have no idea what could possibly be happening. When she finally speaks, it's in such a soft voice, I hardly catch it. "If you don't want to go home to change, I could throw them in the dryer."

I nod before realizing she can't see me, so I say, "That'd be great."

"Okay, um, the laundry room is upstairs…" her voice trails off, like she's uncomfortable, but I don't hear her make a move. "Um, I'd, uh… I'd offer you a t-shirt but mine will be too small." I'm not really used to people seeing me without a shirt, but as usual, Tris is a rare exception, and the idea of her seeing me like that is far from unappealing. "Maybe my dad has one I could find, but..." her voice trails off uncomfortably, so I speak before she can find words.

"It's okay, if you don't mind me walking around without a shirt…" I laugh nervously, hoping she's not too uncomfortable.

To my relief, I hear a soft, "No complaints here," that I'm not sure she intended for me to hear, so I just smile in response. "As long as you're comfortable," she says louder, more clearly.

Without another thought, I unbutton my shirt and peel it off me before I realize she's still in the see-through shirt and probably wants to go upstairs. "Uh, you don't have to wait for me or anything. You can change first if you want."

I hear her laugh a little before the sound dies out. "It's not a big deal," she finally says softly, her voice filled with awe. "I'm not the one walking around shirtless."

I let myself turn around, only to find she's facing me, and I've seemingly caught her looking at my back and the tattoo that covers most of it. Her cheeks flush a little, but she doesn't look away, even as she closes the space between us to grab the wet clothes from me.

"There's a bathroom upstairs you can use to clean up, if you'd like," she says, looking up at me nervously.

I nod and say, "Thanks," before I follow her up the stairs. It feels like an odd sort of déjà vu, oddly reminiscent of the dream I had Tuesday morning, though the circumstances couldn't be more different. _As will be the outcome_ , I resolve firmly. Now is definitely not the time or place.

Still, the tension drapes across me like a second skin, and it's boring deep into my bones the longer it's ignored.

She leads me down the bright hallway to the laundry room so I can toss my wet clothes into the dryer. She hands me a couple of towels from a cabinet in the corner and then leads me to a bathroom where I can clean up in.

"I'll meet you downstairs," she says before she disappears, leaving me to my thoughts…

...which turns out to be dangerous.

 **(Somebody Else by The 1975)**

My mind and body are accosted by flashes of the dream I had, sustained by vivid memories of reality that only makes it more intoxicating. I'm overwhelmed with the memory and the fantasy of it, slowly losing hold on which is real and which is just dream.

I allow my mind exactly one minute of indulgence before I push all those thoughts aside, focusing on cleaning up and making sure I'm dry. Then, when I'm sure the bathroom is as it was before I entered it, I go back to the laundry room to deposit the towels in a hamper I saw before turning to go downstairs.

I don't expect to see her behind me, stopped abruptly by my still shirtless form. Her gasp shakes the walls that surround us, charges my body with electricity that only amplifies as she looks up into my eyes again. Her hands hold her wet clothes, so I briefly distract myself by grabbing them from her and throwing them in the dryer, starting the machine.

When I turn back to her, I can see there's something to her expression, a feeling flowing within the blues of her irises that has me absolutely and maddeningly on edge. The color is the clearest and purist I've ever seen them, and it's impossible not to be lost in them. We're holding each other's gaze, and I can see it; her eyes searching for answers that I didn't know I could provide.

Slowly, she brings her hand up to my face. Her soft fingers brush down my left cheek, her thumb brushing over my lips softly before ghosting down over my jaw, down my neck, hesitating at my collarbone...

Her lips are on mine before I can fathom it, and my hands are pulling her in over the thin blouse that now drapes her body, much like the last one though a dark purple this time. The fabric hardly hides anything of that lies beneath it, and my fingertips tingle in gratitude.

My lips drift from hers, following the line of her jaw, down towards her neck in search for -

She makes the most erotic sound I've ever heard in my entire life as my lips brush across the softest spot of her neck, right above her pulse point. It's nothing more than a soft "Oh" that escapes her, the hum of approval, but it's all encompassing for me.

As much as I want to linger on this spot, to lure more responses from her like she offered before, but I'm distracted by everywhere I've yet to kiss.

My lips follow down her neck until my lips they meet where her neck curves into her shoulder, kissing more insistently as she releases a quiet, guttural groan that shakes both of us. I can feel her whole body tense, unsure what to do, what to feel, and it's entirely mutual.

She moves so that our foreheads are pressed together, both of us trying to stifle our heavy breathing. She bites her lip, clears her throat, struggles to form words, but I just watch her, waiting patiently for her. Her one hand still lingers at my collarbone, but the other snuck its way to my waist in the midst of our kissing, her soft fingers almost tickling my side.

Eventually, she huffs out, "I've never been involved with someone before."

"This really is all new to me, too," I assure her, and I can feel her relax a little in my embrace. I move my forehead away to press a kiss there instead, and on impulse, I move on to brush a soft kiss on the tip of her nose and another briefly on her lips. She doesn't seem afraid, but she's still tense, and I'm unsure what she wants to do.

If I'm being honest with myself, I'm not even sure what _I_ want to do. I can't deny that there's a part of me that's all need, ready to devour her in a way I've never even thought about before her, but that's not what I want, not really. I don't want fireworks, where you get only one bright, shining moment before dying out. I want the fire you tend and build; one that can be stoked to raging, hungry flames one moment and still stay alive in the burning embers that keep you close and warm in the stillness of a winter night.

I know that's how it is with her. It may be impossible to explain but I know it, as if it's the most basic truth I've ever known.

I carefully separate the two of us, though not by much, allowing her to have space to think and decide. "Is this scaring you, Tris?" I ask her softly, looking into her eyes. They're an early morning blue, in this lighting, where the sun's golden light is just starting to spill over the horizon.

She shakes her head slightly. "No," she croaks out before she tries to clear her throat. "Not really. I'm only… afraid of what I want."

My heart does somersaults in my chest, though I'm not sure why at first. "What do you want?" Suddenly, it all connects: she wants…

My face tightens before I can even check myself, and I ask her, "Me?"

She keeps her eyes on mine as she slowly nods. I nod too, because I understand the fear of the unknown, the fear of vulnerability, the fear of taking a risk. To me, she's more than worth it. I can understand if she doesn't know for herself, yet, so I don't demand an answer. I just give her mine.

I take her hands into mine, and for a moment, she takes over holding my hands by cradling them in her own, rubbing her thumbs over the back of my hand like she so often seems to be doing. Then they still, I take them back into my grasp, guiding her palms to my stomach. I keep my eyes lowered as I push her hands up, over my abdomen and over my chest, and hold them against my neck. The trail her hands made on my body is on fire with tingling, aching electricity, and while I'd do a whole lot to feel more, it's more than enough for now.

I feel her shiver, even though I can feel the heat radiating off from her. I can tell she's a bit nervous, unsure of where we're going next, so I find myself saying, "Someday, if you still want me, we can…" Oh, God, am I saying this out loud? Have I lost my mind?

 _Well… it's too late now_.

I clear my throat, my eyes flicking up to hers, which are looking at me curiously. "We can…" I can't get the words out. _You coward!_

Then I see her soft little flicker of a smile right before she wraps her arms around me, not even giving me a chance to say any more. She presses the side of her face to my chest, right above my heart, and it feels like that's where she belongs: close and safe in my arms, where she can be cherished and-

"Are you afraid of me, too, Tobias?" her sweet voice asks, pulling my reeling mind into focus for a moment. She must feel my heart pounding chaotically in my chest, but I don't mind the thought of that.

"Terrified," I reply with a genuine smile.

She turns and kisses the hollow beneath my throat with a tender touch. After a long while of just holding each other like this, she says, "I don't want to be afraid of this." She pulls back enough to look at me again, her expression calm and decided. "I just need some more time before we…" She bites her lip nervously, afraid to put it in words.

I just smile before I lean down to kiss her gently, steadily, and this time, it feels familiar. We fit together perfectly, with my arm around her waist, her hands resting steadily on my chest. I know there's not much I wouldn't do for her, even though and maybe especially because I don't understand the connection we have.

When we break apart, she's all smiles as she sighs contentedly, and I think she might be just as content as I am.

Or, would have been if at that precise moment, we didn't hear the front door open from downstairs. "Hello? Anyone home?" I hear a woman's voice call out from the base of the stairs.

"Shit… My mom's home."

 _Shit..._

 **AN- Aw snap! Damn you, Natalie! He he he, don't worry, I promise I'll make it up to you! (We're just warming up!) I'm so excited for what's to come, and I'm so excited to share it all with you. I'm about to wrap up the first draft of 17, and it's amped up a lot more than I had planned, but I think you'll all like it. All I'll say is that there'll be plenty of puzzle pieces hiding in there! I will have it up by next Monday at the latest.**

 **As always, you all are wonderful. Really. Every single one of you. Your reviews make my day and I appreciate it so so much! I'm blown away by the response this fic has gotten. I know many people are leery of starting new fics from new authors, so I really want to thank you all for taking a chance on Remember Me.**

 **-Willow**


	17. Chapter 17

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Divergent or it's characters._

 _Rated M for language, sexual content, etc._

Chapter Seventeen

Tris smooths her hands over my chest without thinking before she pulls away. "Stay up here, I'll talk to her and tell her what happened." Her face is flushed, alive and radiant. It makes me want to kiss her again, but now is not a good time for that.

"It's alright. Take your time," I say, urging her on. She nods, smiling shyly before she hurries out of the laundry room and down the stairs.

She's gone for a little while, a good fifteen minutes at least. Every moment is still blissful, what with being lost thinking everything I've shared with this woman who has already ensnared me in every sense. With every little taste I get, the more I need her like I need air, and all I can think about when she's away is when I'm going to be able to breathe again. I never thought a person could take me over like Tris does. She gets inside my head in ways that makes it feel like she's _supposed_ to be there.

When she enters the laundry room again, her face is tense with nerves, but the moment our eyes meet, she smiles at me brightly. "Hey, you. Sorry for keeping you waiting. She was on the phone when I first got down there. Then it took my mother took some convincing..." She trails off, biting her lip, though her eyes are bright with mischief.

"Convincing?" I ask, confused at what she means.

Tris smirks, and for the first time, she blatantly looks me over. Her expression is eager, only satisfied after she looks long and hard. Normally, when a woman looks me over like this even with all my clothes on, I get frustrated and self-conscious. While I definitely care what Tris thinks, I'm not bothered by her looking at me and seeing me as I am. She's the only person I've ever wanted to see me like this.

Tris inches closer to me, locking eyes with me and looking up through her lashes. "Well, my bedroom is up here. My mom needed some convincing that our reasons for being up here were... innocent."

I raise an eyebrow. "Innocent?" Tris bites her lip, but she doesn't say anything. "Did you succeed in convincing her?"

She shrugs. "She seems to have taken my word, but the sooner we get your cute butt down there, the sooner she'll be relieved."

I can't help but laugh. "Did you just comment on my ass?"

"I plead the fifth," she says with as straight a face as she can manage.

We share a moment just staring at each other. before she sighs and steps away, headed for the dryer. She checks the clothes, pulling my shirt out but leaving the rest. "It's a little damp in a spot or two, but it might be good enough for you to wear," she says, handing it to me to check over.

Because it wasn't soaked through, there are only a few of damp spots. It's nothing I can't live with, so I quickly throw my shirt back on and button it back up. I'm about to leave the laundry room when Tris stops me, holding onto my hand until she has me turned facing her again. She fixes my collar and smooths over a few spots on my shirt, where it's not as crisp as I'd had it this morning. It's an oddly intimate moment, in a way I never expected there to be intimacy between people, but I feel it. I feel the tenderness as her hands move over the fabric against my torso.

As I watch her face as she concentrates on my shirt for a minute, it's hard not to think about what's to come. I'm terrified out of my mind that I'll screw this up; that her parents will hate me; that Tris will see I'm not nearly good enough for her. I know she deserves better than me, but I've become selfishly taken with her, and I don't want to lose her.

When her hands still on my chest, she smiles up at me, trying to reassure me. "Don't be nervous, okay? Everything is going to be fine. While I love my parents and care about what they think, their snap judgments of you mean very little to me."

My nerves have been so overwhelming, it's hard not to laugh a little in relief when she reassures me. "Maybe... but still, I want them to like me. They're your parents. They are a part of you and your life. They care about you and want what's best for you, so they want to make sure I'm worthy of you."

Her eyes harden, not angrily, but stubbornly. "Well, I already know you mean the world to me, so you have nothing to worry about." Her words send a wave of something strong through me, something magnetic, but she doesn't give me a chance to identify it or comment on it. "Let's not keep my mom waiting. As suspicious as she may be, she really is excited to meet you."

I follow her down the stairs and into the sitting room, where a slender woman of medium height stands facing towards the fireplace, her back to us. Her hair is fashioned up in an intricate, sophisticated braided bun, which s highlights her perfect posture. She's wearing a form-fitting black skirt that ends just past the knee, and a deep green long sleeved blouse that's tucked into her skirt. It's very professional looking.

"Mom?" Tris speaks with a tentative voice that still breaks her mother from her thoughts. As she turns, I see a stack of envelopes in her hands, most likely their mail. At the sight of us, she gives us a smile that reveals youthful dimples, but also lines around her mouth that give away her age. She has pale green eyes, much like her son's, framed by long lashes, much like daughter's. I can see a lot of Tris in her.

As she takes us in, I notice a frown tugging on her expression, but she consciously fights it as she takes a few steps to meet us. Tris places a hand on my lower back, urging me forward a bit as she moves to introduce me, but I feel like I need to step up and do so myself.

With as much nerve as I can muster, I give a polite smile and extend a hand to Tris' mother. "Hello, I'm Tobias. It's a pleasure to meet you," I offer, and thankfully she smiles and shakes my hand politely in return.

"I'm happy to meet you, Tobias. My name is Natalie. Thank you for being such a help to our family." Natalie gives me a genuine smile of thanks, one I want to shrug off. I am benefiting way too much to accept gratitude.

"Of course. If it wasn't for Tris, though, I probably wouldn't have made it to Chicago to begin with, so the thanks really belongs to her. I don't care for airplanes, but she helped me get through it." I tell Natalie honestly.

Natalie smiles warmly, first at me, then at her daughter, as if she's proud. _Good. She should be._ "I'm very happy to hear that. She's a good girl," Natalie says earnestly, making Tris blush. "So, I hear you two got quite the surprise on your walk home this afternoon," she prompts, gauging my reaction.

I hope it's genuine, especially because I'm doing everything I can to _not_ think about Tris kissing me or touching my bare skin, or the way it all woke parts of me long dormant… "Oh, yeah," I start with a laugh. "I always thought that was something that only happened in movies."

Both Natalie and Tris 'share laughter at that, and thankfully, the tension dies away. Natalie seems convinced, so she relaxes considerably. "I'm sure it will be a great story to tell someday," she starts, though her voice trails off for a moment, leaving us in an awkward silence. When Tris clears her throat, Natalie merely continues like she never stopped. "So, I have a bit of work to do here at home, but I mainly wanted to get started on dinner. How far did you get on decorations?" she asks Tris.

"We've just about finished all the centerpieces, which just leaves the few other decorations. Between the two of us, it won't take too much more time."

Natalie smiles gratefully. "Excellent." So Tris and I get back to work while Natalie works behind us in the kitchen for a while before she excuses herself to her home office. When the centerpieces are done, Tris and I carefully pack them into boxes and take them out to the garage to keep out of the way until Saturday. Then we work on some other various decorations for another hour or so, Tris and I mainly working in silence, though we occasionally make small talk. It's comfortable, though, just working with her here.

By a quarter to four, Tris and I have finished everything she needed to get done. She smiles at me brightly after we've safely put everything in the garage and we head back up the path to the house again. "Thank you so much for everything, Tobias," she says breathlessly.

"Thank you for including me," I say in return. Today has been… amazing.

Back in the house, Natalie calls us to join her where she now resides in the sitting room, having seen we've finished up. "You two are quite the team. You work efficiently together," she notes rather objectively, but I smile and thank her anyway. "Again, I really appreciate your service, Tobias," she continues. "You must be quite busy yourself, and you still find time to help us. It means a lot to us."

I give a slight shrug, a little uncomfortable by the compliments. "It's really not a problem. My business in town hasn't been easy on me, so being able to remove myself from it is a relief."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Natalie seems genuine, but there's something about the way she's looking at me that has me on edge.

"It's okay," I say slowly, not sure what else to say.

There's an uncomfortable silence, in which I stare unseeing at the floor, lost in the uneasy feeling I have. While it's familiar, it's one I've struggled to name. All I know is it feels like Natalie can see right into my mind. It's only when Tris breaks the silence that I feel like I can really breathe again. "I forgot to mention, Tobias has a few friends that offered some help as well. I met them briefly over lunch." Her voice is bright, like she's trying to compensate, but I appreciate the gesture.

"Oh, how wonderful." Natalie beams first at Tris, then at me, and it is genuine, but, I can't help noticing a hint of recognition in her eyes. _But why?_

Before anyone else can say anything, though, my phone starts to ring. Pulling it out, I see that it's Andrew, and I can't help but groan miserably. Tris seems alarmed by my reaction, but she doesn't say anything.

"Excuse me," I mumble as I step into the dining room. I'm sure they can both still hear me, but at least I'm not shoving the conversation down their throats. When I answer, all I state is, "Andrew."

"Hello, Tobias," he says in an exhausted voice. "I apologize for the short notice, but Mr. Vega and I have a few more documents that need signatures. I have to leave around five-thirty. Are you able to make it in before then?"

I want to scream into the phone, but I refrain. "I'm not able to at the moment. It can't wait until Friday?"

He sighs, irritated and impatient, but still attempting to stay professional. "I'm afraid not. Mr. Vega would also like to have a meeting with you and your guest for Friday's ceremony."

Anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach. "That's not going to happen," I all but growl.

"Tobias," Andrew starts in, his impatience poking through his restraint, "I understand you don't get along with Mr. Vega, but can't you just cooperate for once?"

I actually laugh. Like, good old fashioned belly laugh. "Andrew, every so often, I do actually feel bad for you and your situation. Now, however, is not one of those times." I listen to him sputter for a second before I continue, as if I never stopped speaking. "I'll stop by tomorrow before five to sign paperwork, but that's it. I'm done." And with that, I hang up.

When I get back to the sitting room, there's tangible tension between Tris and her mother, and I can't help but feel like it's because of me. "I'm sorry about the disruption," I apologize as I step back in.

Tris offers me a smile, though her expression is pained. "Is everything alright?"

I can't help but sigh, my frustration still lingering in every fibre of my being. I'm reminded that I haven't asked anyone to come with me to Marcus' funeral, or rather, I haven't asked _Tris_ , because she's the only person I trust to be there. She's the only person that can make the hurt a little less noticeable and a lot easier to manage, and I feel selfish for needing her like that. The last thing I want is to suck her into this mess with Marcus, especially after everything she's already done for me.

On top of that, I can't seem to escape Marcus, Andrew, this funeral, the past… and I want nothing more than to be free of it.

"It'll be okay. I just need to get through Friday, and then maybe I can finally put this all behind me." For a moment, it feels like it's just Tris and I sitting here together. Deep down inside of me, there's a piece of me that's desperate to hold her in my arms, safe against my chest, even just for a moment, because she's the only thing not marred by Marcus. She's the one good thing not clouded with misery, and I don't honestly know what I'd do without that right now.

She pulls one of my hands into both of hers. "It'll be alright," she reassures me with a smile.

"I wouldn't be, if it weren't for you..." I don't really mean to say it out loud, but a part of me is relieved I did.

We get lost in the moment, so I jump when eventually Natalie clears her throat ever so slightly before excusing herself again. I don't say anything more, don't do anything more, not until she has made it to the kitchen.

Tris turns to check she's gone as well before she scoots closer to me. Her hands come to cradle my face, using very little force to get exactly what she wants. She brings herself as close as she can without actually being on me before carefully bringing my lips to hers.

It's so gentle, so sweet; nothing more than soft, warm lips fitting together with mine perfectly. It's a moment suspended in time just for the two of us. For a while there, the weight of everything surrounding us was threatening to suffocate me. While it's not gone, her presence alone fills my chest with my next sustaining breath. Her kiss? As good as erases it all…

...if but for a moment.

When she pulls away, she's looking at me with a fierce expression. "What are you thinking?" I ask her, because I can't read her. I'm lost in her warmth, the smell of- _what is that, lavender? Chamomile? How do I even know that?_

I can see her trying not to bite her lip, a definite tell that her mind is reeling. She may be nervous about voicing her thoughts, but she does it anyway. "I keep finding myself thinking I don't deserve this… don't deserve _you_. And I don't." She doesn't say it to get a reaction, or to bait me to say otherwise. She says it like it's fact, as if that were something I might already be thinking.

I shake my head as I carefully tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. "If anyone should say that, it's me, but that's not what this is about. I'm not here because I think I _deserve_ you. I'm here because every moment with you is infinitely better than any moment I've lived without you." The corners of my lips twitch up in a hint of a smile as I add, "I might be a little selfish like that."

Her eyes cloud over with moisture she stubbornly holds in, as if its presence was of poor taste. She opens her mouth to say something, but then we hear Natalie's heels on the hardwood floors, signaling her return. We make sure there's a decent amount of space between us, and thankfully, Natalie seems unaware of any possible moment her daughter and I did in fact share. Tris and I, on the other hand, are a bit preoccupied.

Somehow, we manage small talk with Natalie. She asks a lot about my life, especially back in the Phoenix valley, so I go into what my work is like. I try really hard to avoid talk of my family, but ultimately, it does come up.

"Are you staying with family here in Chicago?" she asks warmly. While she seems genuine in all she says and asks, I can't fight the feeling she's fishing for information.

"My childhood home is here, and seeing as it was left to me, I decided to stay there," I say as neutrally as possible. There's a finality to my tone, with the implication my parents aren't around but that it's not a topic up for discussion. _I do not want to talk about Marcus._

Natalie picks up on it easily, of course, and does well not to react much to it. She merely nods in acknowledgement before she leaves it be. Tris takes this moment to ask her mom about someone from work, as if she just remembered she's been meaning to ask, and I can't deny the relief I feel. It's hard to say if she did this for my benefit or not, but I'm grateful still.

The conversation stays away from personal details until Natalie excuses herself again to check on dinner. We offer to help, but she assures us it's all under control. Tris and I are left alone again, but this time, it's only for about a minute before the front door opens. "'Bring out your dead!'" comes a male voice joyfully from the entryway.

I see Tris smile faintly, which only grows when she sees my face. "My brother is a big Monty Python fan," she says happily, and sure enough, in comes Caleb and Susan, the two both smiling.

Tris and I stand from the couch to greet them. I shake hands with the both of them, offering polite smiles, but not really knowing what to say. "Where's Mom?" Caleb asks, looking around the sitting room.

"In the kitchen. We've been banished," Tris says glumly. "Maybe you'll have luck." Caleb goes for the kitchen with Susan in his wake.

Tris turns to me and she must be able to hear my heart speeding away in my chest, nerves starting to stack up against me. "It's going to be alright," Tris reassures me again. "Caleb will help, and Susan is nothing but welcoming. It's just… well, my dad," she trails off, her face twisted up guiltily.

I laugh nervously, mainly for her benefit, but it's not enough to stop myself from saying, "I'm doomed."

She looks at me incredulously. "Tobias, no, I-"

"Tris, he's supposed to hate me. No one will ever be good enough for his little girl. Even I know that." I shake my head vaguely as I examine her look that says, 'Yeah right.' It's this fiery mix of stubbornness, protectiveness, and maybe even a dash of defiance that it beyond striking. _I could stare at her forever…_

"I hear my little sister had a helper doing all the work for my wedding," Caleb's voice intrudes as he re-enters the sitting room. "Honestly, though, I appreciate all the help you've been to us," he says to me.

I shrug a little, not sure what to say. Again. "It's really not a problem. I'm glad I could help."

He smirks a little, glancing at his sister. "If you can survive this one, you'd better accept the thanks."

Tris shoots him a playful glare, but ultimately ends up smiling, brightest of all at me. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says airily. I know she's been fairly tame with me, but with the few intense glimpses into that other side is enough to know what he might mean. It's one of the things I love about her: she's as much of a force as I am, but unlike me, she's not reliant of it.

"Hm, let me consult my extensive library of resources," he hums as he pretends to hold a book in his arm, flipping through imaginary pages as he squints.

Tris rolls her eyes but ends up laughing with Susan. "Yeah, yeah, save it," she huffs in mock annoyance.

He grins. "I will. It'll be prime wedding speech material."

Tris flushes bright red at the words. I wouldn't have thought anything of his response otherwise, but now I can't help picturing Tris in an length white gown, polished and beautified into this breathtaking creature of radiance.

My face burns almost as brightly.

It takes Tris a second to pull herself out of it and quip, "Thanks for the suggestion. I was struggling for inspiration."

Susan laughs really loudly at that, and Caleb nods, conceding. "Deal," is all he says of it.

The four of us talk casually together. Thankfully, Caleb and Susan do most of the talking, filling us in on everything they've been up to in preparation for the wedding. They keep everything light, which I appreciate. It relaxes me before the inevitable.

 _I'm about to meet Tris' father._

Meeting Natalie was one thing. She's kind and has a warm presence, and she didn't look at me like I was a threat to her daughter. Uncomfortable with any implied closeness, but otherwise content. Her father will be different, I'm sure of it. Fathers usually are, and for reasons I can understand. Lord knows if I had a daughter-

I shake my head, not letting myself go down that road. The last thing I need is another distraction involving all the ways I can imagine Tris weaving her way into my future.

At a quarter after five, Tris begins to get nervous, shifting around anxiously and glancing at the clock on the fireplace mantel so often, I'm surprised she doesn't just flat out stare at it.

After another ten minutes, her hands occasionally shake. It's not until her mother comes back to join us, an uncomfortable expression on her face, that Tris seems to baseline of all emotion. "I'm afraid I have some… unfortunate news." Everyone gets quiet, looking at Natalie with a questioning look. She looks to me specifically to speak. "My husband has been kept late for work. He assured me he would try to get home as soon as could, but he may not make it in time to join us."

"Oh," is all I can think to say, not sure how to feel. I'm partially relieved, like I was all the times I would walk out of Sky Harbor, avoiding making the flight to Chicago, but I'm also riddled with a familiar disappointment that doesn't seem to make sense in this context.

I want to say more, but Tris distracts me, her entire body tense with… anger?

"He wanted me to tell you he feels terrible about this, but he'll be glad to meet you when he does." Natalie smiles sadly at me, but that's not the only emotion she's fighting, I just can't put my finger on it.

Tris shifts her weight uncomfortably for a moment before she sighs, closing her eyes briefly as if it's the only thing that can keep her together, ultimately excusing herself to go outside on the back porch. I want to follow her, but I think she wants some space, and following her out there might draw more attention to the two of us than either of us would really like right now.

It's Natalie who follows her outside, and they're out there for a long time. Caleb excuses himself to the kitchen, probably to keep an eye on dinner, so Susan and I sit rather awkwardly in silence, waiting until he returns.

"Don't worry about her," he reassures after a while. "My parents have never been able to keep up with her. Most people are surprised, because she's so _tiny_ ," he says with a laugh. "My sister, though, is not tiny in any other sense than size."

When Tris does come back inside, her face is pale, but her eyes are alight with an undying inferno. She smiles at me gravely, turning my insides to lead, but it's clear there's nothing to discuss.

Dinner is tense and uncomfortable, but the food is amazing. Natalie cooked an entire twenty pound turkey to go with a cheesy potato casserole dish, steamed vegetables, homemade rolls, and the turkey's stuffing. Caleb makes many attempts to fill the silence, but when it's only Susan who contributes, all conversation eventually dissipates .

After the meal, Caleb and Tris do the dishes as Natalie tends to the leftovers. Susan and I give the family some space and go into the sitting room again.

"I've not seen Tris like that in a long time," Susan says quietly after a while.

"Like what?" I don't mean to be defensive, but with what I know of Tris, there's a very good reason why she feels anything she does.

Susan purses her lips for a moment, looking away from me when her discomfort catches up to her. Her shoulders sag after a minute, though, and she seems to cave. "I was so young, so there's a lot I don't remember, though I don't think there was much to know. At least, as far as what was being told."

"What are you talking about?" I ask shortly, a bit impatient with her vagueness.

She gives me a fleeting look before she spills it. "Caleb and I have been friends for years, since first grade. We'd go to each other's houses to play often. Early on, he told me he had a sister, and I mean, there _were_ pictures in the house and she had a bedroom and everything, but I never saw her or heard her. Not ever. I thought it was weird, but my parents said it was rude to ask, so for a while, I just tried to forget about it.

"I finally broke down and asked him once. Caleb said she was sick. He was never able to explain much more than that, other than she was currently, at that time anyway, in the hospital with her longest stay yet. The story was she had always been sickly, but that previous summer, she fell the sickest she had ever been and had been clinging to life for months. It was at least a year that she was in there, because it wasn't until I was in second grade, when it was still cold outside, that I saw her for the first time."

Susan gets eerily quiet for a long moment, as lost in thought as I am. I'm trying to wrap my head around the idea of Tris being small and ill, confined to a hospital bed for over a year. _I can't even imagine…_

"When I first saw her, she was tiny, frail, and yet so wild, screaming and lashing out at her parents… Caleb took me outside before I could see much. We were outside for a long time before Natalie fetched us. We saw her occasionally in the months after, but I usually only saw Natalie, with her arms covered in bite marks and scratches from Tris' nails, bruises… It wasn't until summer that I ever first really got to meet and interact with Tris."

She looks at me, frowning. "She looked a lot like she does right now. It's her eyes… It's not rage, but with its intensity, it may as well be. The rest of her, though… I can only describe it as grief."

A vision of a little Tris with her same expression haunts me, chilling me to the bone, shaking every nerve threateningly. "Grief?"

Susan nods. "When my cousin died, I saw a lot of grief. She reflects all of it, even if I can't explain why."

My heart is choking me, constricting painfully at the idea. _I can't think about her like this, no, I can't-_

"Maybe she'll talk to you about it, when she gets some distance. Just.. don't push her."

I nod, knowing enough about Tris to know that's how she is, but then the confusion hits. "Why would she be angry or grieving? Did something happen?"

Susan bites her lip uncomfortably. "Can't say I know for sure. What I do know is this: Sometimes, Tris and her father, er, _clash_ , for lack of a better word. That's not to say they don't have plenty of good moments, but every now and then, the two of them become so cold and hostile towards each other. Even Caleb doesn't know the whole story. His sister is one to keep secrets."

I'm surprised to hear this, despite the fact she did tell me she was good at keeping secrets. I'm just so used to her telling me things I probably don't even deserve to know with how little I've done to prove I'm worthy of her time.

Our conversation cuts short when Caleb joins us again, followed shortly by Tris. She offers me a slight smile and jerks her head towards the front entryway. She pulls me around the corner, down the hallway next to the staircase, back towards a closet and a half bathroom.

Her eyes are as haunted as mine feel, but when she looks at me, it seems to ease up a little. I hope so…

"I hate to ask this, but would..." She bites her lip, nervous. "I was wondering if I.. if it'd be okay…" She looks away, blushing furiously.

Instinctively, I reach out and grab her hand, trying to soothe her. "You can ask me anything," I reassure her.

She's unsure, but she takes a deep, steadying breath and asks, "Could I stay with you tonight? I can't… I can't stay here. Not after tonight."

Her eyes are glassy again, like she's a moment away from breaking. Even though I have no idea what's actually going on, and she may not even tell me for that matter, there's no way I could say no to her. Whatever it is, I can suck it up and do this for her.

There's not much I _wouldn't_ do.

"Of course," I tell her, no more thought needed. Her whole frame seems to sag in relief. I pull her into my arms, wrapping them around her as hers hold me around my waist. She presses her forehead to my chest, and we stay this way for a long time.

When she pulls away, she smiles faintly up at me. "Thank you." She places a soft kiss on my cheek before she says, "I'm going to explain everything later, I promise. I… I think I'm ready," she says a bit nervously, but she looks decided. "It's… I don't know… I just need to get out of here. I'll tell my mom you're taking me to Christina's or something, but I'm going to go pack a bag first, okay?"

I can't help but grin, not just over the idea of her staying with me, but her offering to sharing something difficult with me. There's a chance I could be reading too much into it, but it has to show she trusts me, right? She wouldn't go this far if she didn't trust me…

I want her to trust me.

I watch her go up the stairs before I use the bathroom, more to waste time than out of need. I'm not sure if her mother is going to be okay with her daughter leaving tonight, so I want to steer clear of that possible fiasco.

Eventually, though, I find myself back in the sitting room, where Natalie, Caleb, and Susan are all sitting chatting. Natalie and Caleb look much more relaxed, but Susan still looks like she did when we were talking about Tris, her look grave and unsure.

"Tobias, I do apologize for the tension over dinner," Natalie says after Caleb has finished telling his mother about one of the papers he's working on for school.

"It's fine, I understand," I say, though I can't say I mean it. It's _not_ fine. Whatever it is that made Tris react like she did, to the point she can't even stay in her own house for the night, is in no way fine. The problem is, it's not my place to say anything, and I'd just assume get Tris out of here. "Things happen," is all I add.

It's clear Natalie is aware of the nature of my thoughts, but she gives me an understanding smile anyway. Oddly enough, it calms me down. _I don't think this is about Natalie_ , I decide.

It's tense for a minute before Caleb tries to lessen it. "So, Tobias, will we be seeing you at the rehearsal dinner?"

I nod. "I'll be there. Is there anything I can do or bring to help?" I'm not sure what all goes on at a rehearsal dinner, but I figure it's polite and not out of conduct to offer help.

"Nah, we're good for that. The real work has to be done Saturday," he says, wincing a bit as he says it.

"Well, I have three friends that already agreed to help, if you could use it."

His face lights up. "That's fantastic! We'd really appreciate it. They can even stay for the party and all if they'd like. The more, the merrier!"

I can't help raise an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

He nods insistently. "Of course! There's more than enough room and food for everyone, and if I'm being honest, it's the least I can do." He glances at his mom, who smiles slightly, seemingly knowing what he's thinking. "My dad may have liked Eric, but he was only one of a few members of that fan club. Sure, I was a little peeved that my sister sent a groomsman packing days before the big day, but I'd have been happier still not having someone than having him there."

My face breaks out into a grin. "She did tell you how it happened, right? It was impressive to watch, and I hadn't even met her yet."

Natalie looks at me curiously, though intrigued, if not a bit proud at the idea. Caleb looks all out excited, beaming as he says, "I didn't know there was a story! Do tell."

Between what I remember of what Tris had told Christina on the phone, what I saw, and what else Tris has filled me in on, I recount the scene in the airport security line. Susan seems to relax and even smile at the story, while Caleb hoots and hollers in all the right places. Natalie's eyes are full of pride, her smile faint. It feels good, to see them respond like this over how Tris stood up for herself.

I've been worried about the effect her family life has had on her self image for a while now, worried it was coming from all fronts. At this point, I get the sense Tris gets along favorably with her mother and brother, at least most of the time. I've not seen her interact with them in a way that'd suggest anything but happy, healthy relationships with them. While I know it's easy to hide the dirty laundry, I'd like to think I've become familiar enough with Tris to be able to detect any indicator of animosity or ill feelings.

That just leaves her father…

"I'd have paid to see that," Caleb says when I conclude. "Better watch yourself, Tobias. She may be small, but boy, is she a force to recon with!"

My ears burn, but I keep my face unreadable. "Trust me, I know. She certainly is braver than I. She amazes me every day I'm with her."

I don't mean for my words to imply anything, but with the way Caleb fights his knowing look, the way Natalie smiles a bit at the way I spoke of Tris, and the way Susan seems to gush, all clue me in. _I might not be as self aware as I've always thought._

Before I can try and cover it up, I see Tris start to descend the steps with small duffel bag. She disappears for a moment before she returns. She must have deposited the bag by the door.

Tris smiles at me when her eyes meet mine, but she doesn't linger as she turns to her mother. She doesn't bother to hide the agony in her eyes as she speaks, which surprises me a little bit. "Marlene asked if I could come over to help her out with wedding stuff. She offered to let me stay the night, so I don't have to worry about getting home so late."

"That's kind of you." Her mother's eyes are heavy with hurt, but she smiles at her daughter. "Do tell her and her mother again how appreciative we are of their help."

Tris gives a feeble smile. "Sure."

"Did you want a ride?" Natalie asks, reasonably concerned, and I wouldn't blame her. "That way you won't have to go out, even now."

"I can take you," I find myself saying before I can think about it. _Just roll with it._

Tris smiles, and for the first time since her mother announced her father wouldn't be home for dinner, the gesture is genuine and unmarred by pain. "You'd do that?" she asks.

"It's not a problem at all, really."

"Thank you, Tobias," Natalie says gratefully, clearly relieved.

We get up to say goodbyes when Tris remembers she needs to grab her purse that she left in the dining room, and I remember our jackets, still up in the dryer. "I can go grab them if you'd like," I offer, and she smiles and nods.

I run upstairs quickly and retrieve the jackets, which have fully dried by now, draping them over my arm. When I step out of the laundry room, my eyes catch picture frames I never noticed before hanging on the wall. Curiosity gets the better me as I drift towards the collection.

All the pictures are of Caleb and Tris at varying ages, though aside from a couple baby pictures, nothing of Tris before she's in third grade or so, judging by her height and facial features in the one photo I use to try and guage. Her eyes are all her, though; big and bright as she smiles at the camera. I grin a bit at the short little ponytail on top of her head that fans out like a palm tree, and the gaps where baby teeth have yet to be replaced by adult teeth.

I'm drawn to one particular picture of her, of what must be from her first birthday. She had been a chubby baby with rosy cheeks in the picture beside it, at what I'd guess would have been somewhere between six and nine months old. In this one, she's thin and pale. Only her eyes are the same. Much of her face is lost in pink frosting, but those eyes…

Too long. I stare way too long, helplessly compelled not to break the hold my stare has, but the eeriness ultimately is what breaks it. For reasons I can't explain, just looking at this child fills me with fear, dread, horror…

I shake my head, trying to clear it. My stomach's already churning threateningly, but I try my best to disregard it. If I acknowledge it, it will consume me. That's what always happens with the memories of Marcus…

My feet carry me away, though my brain might as well be in a whole other country right now. It's not until I'm at the bottom of the stairs that I'm pulled back to reality at the sound of Tris' enraged voice floods from the kitchen.

"-never do what you need to do. You're a coward!"

I freeze, unsure what to do. She may not want me to hear this, but then again, she knew I'd be here down here waiting, so it's not like I'm doing anything wrong...

Whoever she's arguing with must be talking softly, because I don't hear anything other than Tris. " _I'm_ selfish? How could you say that to me? _Me!_ Of all people!" I can tell she's crying; can hear it in her voice and it makes my head spin, my chest ache, my stomach churn and writhe like it would when my father would take me into that room-

 _Focus_.

There's a break before I hear her softer, but still projected voice say, "Dad, you have no idea, do you? You really have no idea what I remember."

I'm not even in the room and I feel the tension, and my stomach drops accordingly. I hear a few muffled voices before a loud, "Then let them hear! No secrets, right Dad?" More muffled voices before what must be Natalie's heels on hardwood interrupts.

I see her go into the sitting room, probably to speak to Caleb and Susan. Thankfully, she doesn't notice me as I move to go back to the bathroom and step inside, so that Natalie, Caleb, and Susan don't see me if anyone decides to leave.

Sure enough, after a few moments of silence, I hear Caleb and Susan get up to leave. "Tell Tobias it was good to see him again," I hear Caleb say politely, but his voice is full of tension.

"If I have the chance, I will," Natalie replies tiredly. "Well, be safe."

The front doors open and then close again before Natalie's heels can be heard retreating back to the kitchen. I move from my hiding spot and creep closer to my original listening spot to better hear.

Now that Caleb and Susan are gone, Tris carries on right where she left off. "I can't do this anymore. It's not right and it's not fair. There's such a thing as putting too much on somebody, and Dad, you certainly gave me the jackpot. Now guess what? _I can't do it anymore!_ I don't _want_ to do this anymore! Instead of facing your own problems, you've forced _me_ to do it. I've given up so much and all you want is more and more. You are a _coward_ , and I can't... No. I'm _done_."

I hear a low, muffled voice say speak, but I only catch a snippet of what he says."-no idea the sacrifices I've made-"

Tris cuts him off before he can get another word in. "Sacrifices _you_ made? I don't think you understood me, Dad. I remember _everything_."

I hear Natalie break in. "This is not the time to discuss that." I hear her speak some more, but I can't make out what else she says, other than a simple, "This isn't the way, Beatrice."

 _Beatrice?_

"You're right. People have the right to know the truth. People _deserve_ to know the truth." Her voice is cold and pointed, and it strikes me painfully.

Her father speaks again, "Beatrice, please, try to understand-"

"Oh, I understand. The truth isn't convenient but frankly, I don't give a damn. Do what's right, Dad, because you better believe it when I say that _I will_."

I hear her moving quickly towards me, but I don't move. I don't try to deny I've heard more than I should or that my mind is racing or that my body is panicking for reasons I can't explain or that I'm horrified by whatever it is she's talking about. _'You have no_ idea _what I remember.'_

I can't breathe...

When she comes around the corner and locks eyes with me, I don't see anything but hurt. She grabs her duffel bag before she grabs my hand, pulling me to the door. "Let's get out of here."

And that's exactly what we do.

 **AN: I sincerely apologize for the delay in posting. While I had it finished on time, this chapter and the two that follow rely a lot on each other, and as a whole, I wanted it all to work well together. CP, MJ, and my roommate, KC have been helping me edit and polish this chapter and the two that follow it, but the process took some time. I think their efforts paid off, and will take these chapters to a whole new level. (Don't believe me? Just wait until Ch 18!) Anyway, you all are so patient, and I do appreciate it.**

 **Now, how about this chapter?! I know so many of you have been commenting and speculating on so many things Andrew, and I know I've dodged it again, but I hope the payoff will be worth it!** **I'm anxious to see what you all think about Natalie and how she is around Tobias, Tris' reaction to her father's absence, Susan's recollections of their childhood, Tris' argument in the kitchen, and what is all still to come. I have so much planned for you all, I've been shaking with excitement all week! My awesome roommate (KC) was so patient with me this week and even helped me out with a sweet little treat I've worked into the next chapter. (Anyone up for another scene like in Chapter 10?)**

 **Once again, thank you all for the reviews, follows and favs. I'm so incredibly thankful for all the encouragement and kind words. This has been crazy, but amazing fun so far, and I'm excited for all the excitement to come! Thank you for stickin' with me through all this. You all are the best! Look forward to hearing what you all think!**

 **-Willow**


	18. Chapter 18

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent, it's characters, etc._

 _Rated M for language, sexual content, possibly upsetting material. Please only read if of an appropriate age._

 **AN: Once again, thank you all for the continued support, as well as all the wonderful and encouraging feedback. It means so much to me! I appreciate you all so much. Since you all were so patient with the last chapter, I thought I'd go ahead and post this one on time anyway. The next chapter will be posted next Monday. Can't wait to see what you think of this chapter!**

Chapter Eighteen

We don't say anything the entire drive to my childhood home. I never really anticipated Tris ever coming with me to my house, so she has no idea what that place holds for me. There's no easy way to prepare myself for having to open up to her about what it was like growing up there, especially when she seems to be battling her own past demons right now. I may have alluded to enough, but she deserves better than that.

As I park in the garage and she moves to get out, I gently grab her hand to stop her. "Tris, wait a second, please."

My heart is suddenly back to pounding, racing, struggling. Everything that has happened tonight collides with being home, memories of Marcus and my childhood washing over me. She needs to know what she's walking into...

When I bring my eyes to her face, guilt swims in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Tobias, I didn't-"

I shake my head, stopping her. I don't want her thinking it's about her. "It's not that, Tris, I…" I let out a shaky breath, unable to keep my eyes on her, those beautiful eyes making my head spin and my stomach clench painfully. "Tris, there are things I've needed to tell you, just like you said you did. I…" Another shaky breath escapes. _Deep breaths, Tobias, you can do this…_

"Do you remember Tuesday morning? Before the fittings." Though the question is vague, she nods in understanding. "That morning, before we started texting, I had this… dream." _Technically, by that definition, more than one..._ "More like a nightmare."

I feel her squeeze my hand, not to comfort, but as if it's all that's keeping us present. In a way, it does just that.

"Part of it… involved memories of my childhood. A lot of it was confusing and disturbing, not entirely unlike nightmares I've had before, but much worse. Then, when we were texting, I had… I had a flashback in my kitchen and lost track of time."

"Tobias…" My eyes shoot to hers. I'm sure they're vulnerable, but I don't care if she sees me this way because hers are much the same, while still filled with her own pain. All that seems to matter is that she said my name, and it was gentle and comforting.

 _And distracting._

I shake my head, willing her to let me get it all out. "Marcus, my… my..." I groan miserably as I bury my head in my hands, trying to coax it out of me. "My _father_ used to abuse me in this house. Every single day I've spent inside it has been filled with misery, even after he's died. Every room, every inch of that place reminds me of what he'd do. A tattoo can cover up scars, but nothing can hide the hell this house has always been."

Her eyes are closed when I finally slide my hands down over my face and turn back to her. Her hand grips the hem of my jacket tightly, and I'm struck again with this feeling she's trying so hard to hold onto me like she's losing me. The idea that she may think that's happening terrifies me, but not as much as the idea that there may be something more painful to come that makes losing me plausible.

 _Don't think about that, now. One problem at a time._

Her eyes open, suddenly, swallowing me whole. She's quiet for so long, I don't even think she's going to say anything, but words have abandoned me in this moment. There's nothing left in me, not now.

When she does speak, her voice is tender. "We don't have to stay here tonight. We can find someplace else to stay."

I shake my head. "I promised myself I wouldn't run from anything that's not there… but being in that house, it's easy to forget it was the past."

She nods in understanding, reminding me of her shouts back at her house. We sit quietly for a few minutes before she asks, "Are you ready to go inside?"

Reluctantly, I nod. "If you're ready…"

Slowly, we make our way to the front door. When we're a few yards away, an impatient meow greets us. Pitch is waiting in the flower bed again, a welcomed sight for my tormented consciousness. I don't hesitate to reach out and pet him, and he presses into my hand rather aggressively. "Yes, I'm happy to see you, too," I tell him, and he meows happily in response.

For a minute, I just pet him, lost in the moment of reprieve. When I look back to Tris, it's to find her smiling faintly at the two of us. She comes over and pets Pitch, too, and he meows happily again. "You are a sweetheart," Tris coos softly at him, and it warms my heart for a moment. Pitch presses more into her hand in response, which earns a smile from her. After another minute, I open up the front door and step back for Tris and Pitch to enter.

Tris is all wide eyes and observation, looking around the house that is as cold as Marcus was. Every place she looks holds a horrifying memory for me, and it's hard not to feel a little suffocated when I'm surrounded by it like this.

 _Everything is going to be fine. He's not here, Tobias._ Tris _is, and she'd never hurt you._

She turns to me, her eyes a bit nervous, but not letting it spread anywhere else. "Where can we go to sit and talk?"

After leaving our jackets by the front door, I lead her to the front living room where she gets comfortable on the couch while I start to build a fire. She's quiet as she watches me, her gaze burning into my skin before the fire even has a change to.

As the flames starts to build on its own accord, I turn to look at her. The firelight makes her face come alive with flickering expressions, though I know she's somehow just looking at me, searching for an answer. To what, I have no idea.

My throat constricts, panicked a bit. _I need a minute._ "Do you want anything? I might be able to find a bottle of wine somewhere. Otherwise, there's water…"

She smiles faintly. "I wouldn't turn down wine," is all she says.

In my panic, I banish myself to Marcus' study, where oddly but also surely enough, there's a hidden bottle of wine. I don't bother looking at what kind, not caring either way. It's not enough to distract from the fact that I'm here, in my childhood home of horrors, alone with Tris, for the entire night. On top of that, I don't want her to think there's any implication with her staying here. Frankly, I have no idea what I want to begin with. All I know is I want to be around her, and everything aside from that gets hazy.

 _Just suck it up and ask her._

Before I can turn and make my way out, I remember Marcus had a thing for expensive chocolates, and that he usually kept an assortment in his desk. Sure enough, with some careful searching, not only do I find the stash, but that the box is still near full with expensive delicacies. I bring the box with me before I grab two wine glasses from the kitchen.

She smiles when she sees me return. We're quiet as I pour wine into each of our glasses with a steady hand. Before either of us can draw from our glasses, she extends her glass to me, and she says, "To those who survived what they shouldn't have had to." Her eyes are sad and knowing, but even still, her words are a comfort. I bring my glass to hers, sustaining her toast before we each draw from our glasses.

We sit on the couch sipping our wine silently for a few minutes, watching the flames start to grow stronger and more insistent in the fireplace. It's warmth is just starting to be detectable. I grab the box of chocolates off the table where I dropped them and carefully remove the lid, offering her the first choice. There are over a dozen large chocolates wrapped in beautiful foils of bright colors. "These are supposed to be really good," I tell her. "'Marcus Eaton expects the best,' he'd always say, and he had no problem paying for it."

Tris bites her lip, a bit hesitant, but ultimately does grab a chocolate. Her first choice is wrapped in a dark fuchsia foil with thin black and white stripes. She unwraps the square of dark chocolate with white chocolate swirls across the top with careful fingers, careful not to tear the delicate foil.

I find myself lost in the moment like I so often am with her, engrossed in her reaction as she takes a small bite. She grins a bit, savoring it the way chocolate like this should be savored before taking another bite. This time, I can see the raspberry currant filling she hadn't reached from her first bite stain her lips an even more tempting shade. She hums in approval as her taste buds are assaulted by the flavors, licking her lips greedily for more.

She takes the last bite a bit hastier than she wanted to, but hums again in satisfaction all the same. Her eyes dart to mine as she swallows the remainder of it, and I watch as she blushes a bit.

She shivers as she looks at me. "Are you okay?" I ask her.

Her eyes never leave mine, staring deep into them for what feels like an eternity, while also only being a suspended moment. When she does speak, her voice is small, timid. "Just cold," she barely gets out.

Without another thought, I put down the box of chocolates and set our now empty glasses on the table before pulling the blanket off the back of the couch over our shoulders. We fit ourselves together under its warmth without discussion. She ends up on my lap, our arms wrapped around each other so she can rest her head on my chest.

I'm struck by just how comforting it is to hold her like this. Even though we both have so much that needs to be explained, all I can think about is how I don't care about anything other than having her here with me. At the end of the of the day, I'd be delusional to even pretend like I want to be anywhere that isn't where Tris is.

I have a million and one reasons why I shouldn't even think about considering it, let alone already acting like it's decided.

 _But isn't it?_

I can't go anywhere. I could never leave her. She already means more to me than anyone I've known before, as twisted as that may sound, but then again, I can't say I've ever truly been happy. Not until _her_.

"I'm really glad you're here," I murmur into her sweet smelling hair.

She pulls away from me so she can look at me, and her eyes are so full of emotion, it makes my chest ache. Before I know it, she's closed the space between us and claiming my lips in a gentle, comforting kiss.

Her lips are like soft spoken secrets; whispers meant only for us to share. There's the lingering taste of the expensive chocolate and the wine, and I find myself wanting to devour her in much the same way; wanting to get drunk in everything that is her in the same way.

The ache in my chest only seems to swell as we shift without thinking. She ends up straddled on my lap, the hunger we've both been trying to avoid and diffuse these past few days only consuming more and more of us. _I'm surprised we made it this long…_

I have felt this woman in my bones long before I should have, as if she were some missing part of me. I only feel complete when she's near me. I only feel capable of breathing when she's stealing my breath away. She's taking over every part of me, and I couldn't be more willing, more wanting of it.

Her fingers tangle into my hair, pulling my lips back to hers. My hands smooth up over her back, my skin tingling as I feel her ribs expand, sucking in each breath desperately. The warmth of her body is so sweet against mine, far more pleasant than the fireplace's offering. Those flames don't trail soft kisses across my jaw, down my neck, over my collarbone and up the other side. Those flames don't make me feel whole and competent and worthy...

When her lips reach my ear, her hot breath sends waves of electricity down my spine. "I'm really glad I'm here, too," she says hotly, her voice low and throaty.

It happens so fast; her teeth barely graze my earlobe and I lose it, my hands gripping her hips tightly and pulling her closer, flush against me. She moans against my neck, the sound sparking shocks down my spine and through every nerve ending. A similar sound is ripped from my chest, lost in her own neck. The kisses I leave are wet and hot, but her breathy pants only compliment my efforts.

My hands drift over her back while hers tug on my hair possessively, as if she wants every part of me like I want every part of her. Even though I want nothing more than for her to take us further, I'm undoubtedly terrified of the prospect. This is so beyond my realm of knowledge and understanding, but I want to give her _everything_.

I'm frozen stiff when she pulls back so that I'm staring into her eyes. Hers dart back and forth between mine, searching, wondering... She's biting her lip nervously, but then something stronger wins out that neither of us expected: need.

She gently moves her hands down to hold my face, locking our gaze with a magnetic hold. Slowly, she brings my lips back to hers, kissing me deeply and passionately. It's not long before I feel her tongue begging entrance, teasingly tracing my lips. It about undoes me, striking me through to the core. In the chaos of my feelings, and the feeling of her pressing close to me on my lap, I forget to hold back.

I readily oblige.

The taste of the chocolate and the wine makes me hungry for more. She's absolutely divine in every way. She fits perfectly in my arms and against my lips, as if we were two pieces of a puzzle meant to be reunited.

Her hips roll against mine like she can't help it and I respond to her instinctively, completely lost in the blissful feel of her moving against me, the taste of her as our mouths claim each other, the sight of her wanting this just as much as I do...

She whimpers against my lips, a rapturous combination of want, need, impatience, and stubbornness. She may have worried about rushing things between us, wanting to be sure to soak in every moment before it slips away, but I don't think she ever expected to feel rushed by her own desire.

Her fingers snake back into my hair, curling at the base of my skull and pulling just enough for me to groan against her lips, which curl up a bit in response. She pulls away slightly, and it's clear she's proud of herself, that she has this affect on me.

"Two can play at that game," I tell her before grabbing her hips tight enough for her breath to catch, pulling her so close to me that my lips hardly need to search for that perfect spot on her neck, right over her pulse point.

I may have stumbled upon this spot by accident the first time I kissed her here, but it's never going to be an accident again. No, every part of this is going to be deliberate, conscious.

She tilts her head to the side, allowing me better access and I take full advantage of it. My right hand sneaks up her back slowly, letting my fingers ghost across her spine along the journey. The left keeps hold of her hip, keeping her as close to me as possible for every second, though the choice to do so brings on blissful agony for both of us. I have never been this close to anyone before, let alone wanted to push even closer still…

She sighs into my ear, making it my turn to grin. "I told you," I tease.

She unconsciously rolls her hips into mine again in response, enough to pull low groans from both of us. She pants, "Told me what?" still a bit too innocently as she bites _that damn lip of hers._

Words are starting to become impossible to find, my concentration elsewhere. My hand has reached her neck, my fingers curling around it. I hold her as I kiss her, which she returns passionately. Words are the last thing on my mind.

Without another thought, I lie back further against the cushions, only now realizing how much I had leaned forward to meet her, pulling her with me so that she's practically lying out flush on top of me. She smiles into our kisses, clearly happy with my choice.

There's something about having her weight on top of me like this that is thrilling and intoxicating. It makes it so real, that _she's_ here, this beautiful woman that I just can't get enough of.

The hand that was on the back of her neck drifts down again, caressing her waist, smoothing over her hips, down until-

She gasps slightly against my lips when my hand takes a firm hold of her soft curves before a light, almost nonexistent whimper escapes her. If I wasn't so drawn to every little thing she does, every little sound she makes, I'd have missed it completely. _Thank God I didn't!_

Her cheeks flush brightly, bringing out a grin from both of us. "Oh, Eaton," she giggles playfully, shaking her head.

 _A tug on my sleeve brings my eyes to bright blue orbs._

 _"Wuss name?" a small girl asks me. Her blonde hair falls in wisps, curling underneath her ears where they've been tucked behind. She's wearing a simple black dress and grey tights with black and pink polka dots, but no shoes._

 _Her big eyes are stuck on mine, staring deep, but still I don't answer. She asks again. "Wuss name?" I've never been asked that before. I've never said it before, neither, but somehow I do it. "Tob...ias. My name… is Tobias."_

 _She tries to say it but gets stuck on the 'b,' never getting past it so it sounds like she's saying, 'Tubba.' Her face gets all scrunched up, like she's mad but it's... cute._

 _"Just call me Eaton." I say, thinking of how Father likes people to call him Mr. Eaton._

 _Her eyes open up wide. They're bright and sparkly, like the sky at night sometimes._ Her eyes have stars in them!

 _"_ Eaten? _Why'd I say dat!" she giggles._

 _My lips pull up in a way they never have before. "Not 'eaten.' My last name is Eaton, it's spelled differ-rinse," I stammer, trying to get words out right, but failing. Father is going to be angry with me again..._

 _"Oh." The little girl's lips pull up, too, and it makes me do it again, forgetting all about Father. "I'm Bee-twis." she says._

 _I'm about to say something when a woman comes through the door. Upon seeing the little girl, the woman snags her tiny wrist harshly. "Beatrice, you are in trouble," the woman snarls at the girl, and I want to pull her away from the nasty woman, the one that ties my hands and feet to the chair when I go to see David…_

 _But the woman pulls little Beatrice behind her, but little Beatrice is still looking at me. She waves at the last second, her lips still pulled up-_

My heart is pounding, eyes wide open but as good as blind. Then I hear her… Tris… _Beatrice?_

"Tobias?" Her voice is soft, cautious, somehow _knowing_.

She's moved off my lap, sitting right beside me, now, her fingers running over the sides of my face, up and down my arms, through my hair, down my neck… trying to being me back.

Finally, I look at her, look at her face, her eyes, her hair tucked behind her ears… "Beatrice?"

There's a flash of recognition across her face as the color seems to drain away.

"Do you… Do you remember, Tobias?" she asks, her voice soft and afraid and agonized. "Do you remember me?"

 _A sudden force hits my side, pulling me from sleep. The scent of grass and apples, sunshine and fresh air reassure me that it's Beatrice._

 _"Eaton?" she whispers into my chest where she's buried her face._

 _"Yes?"_

 _She sits up so that I can just barely see her face anxious and puffy from tears. "Eaton, they're sending me away. In the morning."_

 _Panic strikes me like lightning, my chest more tight than the restraints on my hands and feet that keep me in bed. "What do you mean? How could they? They wouldn't- They can't - There's no way that - You need to stay here!" It's selfish, but I don't care. Beatrice is all I have._

 _Tears are streaming down her face, her lip held tightly between her teeth like it's the only thing left that she has control over._

 _Suddenly, her arms are wrapped tightly around me. I wish I could return the gesture, but I just rest my cheek on the top of her head where it rests over my heart. It's how we stay for what could easily be hours as we cry._

 _After she pulls away, I get desperate. "You have to remember, you're strong and brave and smart. You will be okay, 'tris, you will. You'll be okay."_

 _She's nodding through her tears. "And you remember that you are too a-and honest and kind. You're my… my best friend."_

 _I nod, though it's hard to believe her. She's always said it, in her own way, but I don't know what she's seen to believe it. I am not deserving of that title._

 _Suddenly, the door opens and one of David's nurses stands there, a harsh look looming over us. He's coming for her, I know he is, but I can't let her go. We're holding onto each other as hard as we can, crying from the pain the effort takes as vicious hands pry us apart._

 _She's crying out now, struggling to pull away from him to get back to me, but she is so small, and he has a grip as hard as iron. And no matter how hard I fight against my restraints, I cannot break free._

 _He's nearly pulled her out of my room when she cries, "Remember me! Please, remember_ me _."_

 _And then she's gone._

It all starts crashing back over me in waves, mixed together with snippets of nightmare and memory, hopelessly welded together in a mess of confusion. Those flashes of that small little girl with bright eyes are memory, not dream, and in some sick twist of the universe, that little girl was _Tris_.

 _And she knew._

 **AN: ... Don't hate me.**

 **-Willow**


	19. Chapter 19

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Based off Veronica Roth's Divergent series. What's hers is hers (obviously)_

 _Rated M for sexual content and mature content_

Chapter Nineteen

The fluorescent lights produce a piercing, unforgiving glare off the white walls, a garish glow off the porcelain sink that stubbornly resists my clenched fists. If it were up to me, it would be nothing more than broken shards long since embedded in my flesh, erasing the sterile illusion with a crimson contradiction. Though the mirror would have succumbed to my desire effortlessly, I need it's blatant honest. I need to see what I am in this moment, so for now, it's spared.

Mirrors have never been my friend, and now of all times, its honesty stings. My face is plagued by many things though most prominent being that of eight years worth of violent, horrifying memories coming back over the course of minutes. My frame sags under the unfamiliar weight of missing time now thrust upon my already crushing load. Memories continue to flood my consciousness, but no context explains them. Flashes of cruelty, manipulation, mind games, violence, and medicinally-induced hallucinations, not unlike what I experienced Tuesday night, pummel my consciousness. The longer I stand here, the more that comes flooding back, but the less sense it seems to make...

The most disconcerting part of it all is how much of it includes Tris, or rather _Beatrice,_ a small child at the time, but very much the same person I've come to know now as an adult. _Or thought I knew..._ She and I share a history I'm only now starting to remember, whereas she seems to have been sitting on this information for a while, now.

 _What else don't I know? How much of it does_ she _know? What else is she keeping from me?_ Why _is she keeping things from me?_

I hear a soft knock at the bathroom door, tentative and second-guessing as Tris' agonized voice somehow reaches me, the sound so muffled, I'm surprised I understand her. "Tobias? I know you said you needed a minute, but it's almost been an hour and I'm worried-"

Anger speaks in place of rationality because it reacts faster. The door slams into the wall as I fling it open and she flinches from the crashing sound that follows my movements. A part of me blanches internally with shame at the sight, but my anger is too overbearing to leave room for much else. "Worried? You were _worried_? About what, exactly?" I ask venomously, pressing forward as she backs away, until we're both in the hallway that leads to the front entryway.

My throat constricts as I take in the sight, especially when I notice the pair of shaking hands Tris tries to conceal in vain. She still has more nerve than most, so when she does answer, she does so steadily, determined. "Worried about _you_. You just got blindsided and-"

"You think?!" I bellow at her. My hurt rears its ugly head in the form of a rage I can't bite back, its heat burning my insides and my throat as the words fire at her. The sound reverberates off the walls, filling the hallway with everything I'm feeling.

To her credit, she doesn't flinch this time, but the injury is still evident. "Tobias, I didn't-"

"Didn't what?" I incite viciously. "Didn't mean to hurt me? Didn't think this would be a big deal? Didn't mean for me to find out? Didn't mean to lie to my face? Didn't think I would be upset that you're keeping things like _this_ from me? Didn't think-"

"Are you going to let me answer any of those questions, or are you just going to scream at me?" Tris snaps, interrupting me as vastly different emotions contort her expression to one that hurts to witness. Her brow is knit together angrily, but her eyes are swimming with pain. "We can fight, you can scream, you can be pissed, but if you want answers, give me a chance to fucking give them!"

I'm struck by her ability to not only handle anything I throw at her, but also her ability to reciprocate it, regardless of what it inflicts. I've always feared the inevitable day I lost control, lost my ability to hold back the fire I was raised to contain. The thing is, never have I considered for a second that I just needed to find someone who was an inferno themselves; someone immune to the damage I inflict, because they're made of the same element.

 _Will that be enough? Can I ever trust her again after this? Is she even the person I think she is? How many lies has she told?_

She sighs, releasing the deep breath she slowly took in just moments before, thus breaking the tense standstill. "I knew it was a big deal, Tobias. Of course I did, but… Well, for starters, let me set one thing straight: I did not remember you at first. I kept getting these little hints of recognition, but nothing telling. By the time I _did_ , and I had a chance to tell you, it was just-"

"What?" I challenge, my fury flaring up again. As much as I should at least _try_ to hear her out, I won't waste time on cliches or feeble excuses. "Bad timing?"

She narrows her eyes at me, her eyes flaming with irritation. "Not exclusively, but _yes_ , it was bad timing." I roll my eyes, pissed off by her excuse. My response only pisses her off in return, and she growls this frustrated, choked sound in an attempt to hold it together. "Don't even go there, Tobias. You don't get to pretend that these past few days have been _hunky-dory_. I've seen what has been happening to you in spite of this information. Haven't you noticed that dealing with Marcus' funeral has been hard enough on you as it is?"

"That's a bullshit excuse, and you know it," I all but growl.

"No, if anyone is gonna call bullshit, it'll be me!" She takes a step closer to me, standing her ground. "You don't even talk to your own best friends about Marcus! You take one look at Mr. Vega and just about pop a vein! I'm sure my father is no picnic in your book, either, and you know, rightfully so! These past few days have left you on edge and having nightmares."

My jaw clenches in irritation, which she mirrors. "That wasn't some blow to your character, so you can relax a little! Tobias, you don't have to pretend like your life was some cake walk. Don't try and fool yourself or anyone else into thinking you'd have took this news any better from me if I had just laid it out for you the moment I realized. Besides, when did you want me to work this news in? Monday night via text when I first remembered? Before you came over for breakfast and the fittings Tuesday morning? How about at our date at The Pit that night? Oo, or what about the afternoon before you met my parents? Those were some pretty fucking optimal times to drop something like this, don't you think?"

She's shaking her head slightly, her eyes bright with something intense I can't name, and it keeps me quiet so she can continue. She's fighting back anger, which I'm slowly starting to understand, but I'm still too upset and angry with her to let this go. Even if that's true, it's still not a good enough reason. She's still keeping things from me. To be fair, I'm not exactly letting her explain herself, so I resign myself to try and hear her out.

When I don't bite back, she relaxes a little, and her voice softens considerable. "If you want my full and honest truth, then yes, I was hoping my father would man up and tell you the truth himself, because technically, it's his truth to tell. You know, seeing _he_ was the one in on it, with _Marcus_. Why do you think I had a screaming match with him before I stormed out of my house tonight? I don't know how much of that you heard, but when I saw him try to sneak into the house, _avoiding_ you and the secrets he's forced us to keep, I was so beyond pissed. He wouldn't even face you, Tobias. What kind of man does that?" She shakes her head. "I've been just as hurt, Tobias, knowing my own father chose Marcus over us _again_."

I consider all of this for a second, and while I do understand it and understand where she's coming from, it's still not enough right now. "But why, Tris? Why would you keep something like that from me? Forget bad timing. Didn't you think I deserved to know something this important, even if it was painful?" I demand.

"Of course you deserve the truth, Tobias, but-"

"Then why didn't you just tell me?!"

"Oh, I don't know," she snaps sarcastically, looking at me with a fiery expression. "For one, wasn't it _you_ who said I had the whole week to talk to you about what was bothering me? I _told_ you I didn't like it! I _told_ you I felt guilty! I _told_ you I felt wrong about getting closer to you when I still had so much to tell you! You're a hypocrite if you want to make me feel bad about not telling you out the gate."

She has a point there, but something about all this strikes me oddly. "That may be true, but why would you feel guilty? That doesn't make any sense," I tell her, frustrated.

She shakes her head incredulously. "'It doesn't make sense.' Are you seriously…?" She shakes her head again, an exasperated laugh escaping as she looks at me desperately. "Why do you _think_ I'd feel guilty, Tobias? You don't think it's because I was trying to spare you from the truth? Have you never considered that I might want to _protect_ you?"

"I don't need you to protect me, Tris!" My voice is rising dangerously fast again, but I can't stop, can't stop my hurt and rage from escaping. "I can take care of myself. I've done it before, have always done it, since for as long as I can remember."

"Exactly!" She throws her hands up in frustration before she smooths her hair back, trying to compose herself a little, though I don't see it helping much. "You've not had one single person give a shit about your well being for so long... And I don't just mean the well being of the man that's standing in front of me, but also the little boy that... that was put through _hell_ , who is still a part of you. No one has ever taken a stand for you when you needed them the most. Is it that unreasonable that I want to be that person for you? Have you ever considered that _I_ care? I don't know how much you remember, but I remember you being the only person I had in my life that wouldn't hurt me, one way or another. You were always there for me. I lost my only ally, my only _friend_ the day they sent me away. I knew that you were left with _them_ , alone with no one there for you. Do you honestly think I wouldn't do anything I could to make your life easier now? I can't make up for lost time, but I'll be damned if I don't take whatever little blessings I could get."

I frown at her. "Blessings? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Tobias…" She sighs, her body slumping in exhaustion. I know the fight isn't out of either of us, but in this moment, my anger is appeased enough to hear her out, so I ease up a little. "I'm not sure if you remember all of what that place was. Snippets… won't do it justice, even just compared to what the press released after David was convicted."

I'm reminded vaguely of David; vaguely remembering the tall, thick man with dull brown hair and eyes that lurks at the edges of almost every dark memory. "I need you to tell me everything now, Tris."

She sighs, nodding in defeat, but taking a minute to compose herself. "Can we at least sit and talk? It might take some time to get through it…"

We both go back to the living room, but the room feels colder now than it had when we first came in here. The passion that was here an hour ago has long since passed, and I'm afraid it'll stay that way… afraid that we'll never be able to move past this. Is there anything she can say to make it better? Is there a reason good enough?

I don't know...

After we've settled, Tris turns to me and begins. "I'm going to tell you everything I know."

Despite my better judgement, I scoff and mumble, "Novel idea."

Other than clenching her jaw for a second, she doesn't acknowledge my jab. "From what I remember, and what was released to the public, David was a therapist, though not highly respected. He had developed this questionable child therapy technique back in the late seventies that, in theory, would help children become better adults by helping them learn how to master their emotions, effectively follow orders and complete tasks set upon them. Or, that's how it was pitched, anyway.

"In practice, Abnegation Therapy applies the use many questionable practices. For one, there's the use of powerful medications that would induce dissociative states, among other things, but that one aspect was what made it so…" She shakes her head, as if she can't even give a word for it. "They'd use gaslighting, fear tactics, threats, manipulation, simulations, and probably a vast arsenal of other means to condition the patients- the _children-_ to live lives of..."

She scoffs, suddenly annoyed, and her sudden flip in demeanor throws me off, lost as she spits out her next words like they taste vile. "Between all the news articles they wrote about it, they compiled quite the list… 'self-denial, self-sacrifice, abstinence, asceticism, austerity, self-deprecation, compliance, submission, acquiescence'… Pretty thorough list, huh?" she finished flatly, her humor nonexistent. "One news commentator even went as far to call patients 'tiny robot children,'" she barely gets out in spite of her disgust, shaking her head bitterly.

She sits in silence for a minute before she sighs sadly."The program was designed to cater to parents and guardians with lives that needed to remain secretive, or for extremists of one thing or another, who wanted their children to be of the same mindset. It made children easier to manage and control, as well as making them easily influenced by anyone who knew how to manage a child under those conditions..."

Her voice has simmered down and softened significantly. She probably means nothing of it, but it reminds me of the memory-warped-nightmare I had that depicted a little Tris with the attack dog: I'm all hostility, posed and trained to maim if I deny myself my humanity. Though she wouldn't stand a chance, the looming threat doesn't even seem to alarm her a bit. She stares me down without a second thought of herself, continuing to talk to me as if her safety were guaranteed. _I'm an Eaton… that can_ never _be guaranteed._

Something about her vulnerability disarms me, though, especially because she has no real grasp of any of this as she presses on with her explanation. "If a parent enrolled their child into Abnegation, they… they knew what was happening. They were expecting it…"

Tris stares off for a second, lost in thought before a shudder rolls down her spine. It's enough to bring her back to the present, and she carries on as if she never stopped. "For the therapy to be most effective, the child had to start before a year old. They had to stay in until at least four years old, but stay no later than the child's sixth birthday. Something to do about making it easier for the patients to forget the specifics of the therapy over time, thus protecting David of any liability... though, he made one exception to the age rule."

She looks down into her lap, afraid to even look at me as she says, " _You_ were the only exception. You were nearly eight when they took me away, and you were still there. They were also a bit harder on you, going to extremes they hadn't dared before… per Marcus' orders."

She barely gets the last part of that sentence out, the hurt she feels blatant. She has to take a few minutes to breathe deeply, her eyes now squeezed shut. "I wouldn't stop asking about you. _Violently_. My poor mother… She'd hold me as I'd scream and cry and bite and…" Her voice catches in her throat, her eyes closed to hold back tears. "It was probably downright scary, and still it was months of that before my dad finally broke down… screamed at me that you were _gone_."

She squeezes her eyes shut desperately tight as the words leave her, but three tears manage to escape before she regains control again. "When I asked what he meant, he said that I'd never see you again. He said I'd never even know if you made it or not, let alone if you would be able to resist the therapy. He wouldn't answer any of the other questions I had begged him answers for."

My confusion seems heavy on her, her shoulders dropping down a bit. "It was made plain to me by my father that day that your future would be exactly what Marcus intended it to be, if you survived it." Tears well in her eyes as she barely gasps out, "That's what he said to me: _if_ you survived it. I may have only been six, but I remember that moment as if it happened yesterday…" She rises from the couch and turns away from me, but I can still see her lip quivering dangerously as tears spill over, cascading down her cheeks.

We're quiet for a long time before she says anything else. "I knew this would happen," she whimpers, her expression hallow. "You hate me and now all that's left is what happened to us... I've lost you again."

Those words go down like swallowing nails, surely destroying me from the inside as my body tries to absorb them. I rise, too, unable to stay still any longer. When she meets my eyes dejectedly, I shake my head, initially subconsciously, but my thoughts catch up in agreement. "I don't hate you, Tris, but I won't lie. I feel hurt… and a little bit betrayed…"

I want to tell her that I'd never be able to leave, because even if she had intentionally tried to hurt me, I'm too tethered to her to let her go. There's not a part of me that thinks she _wanted_ to hurt me, and that means enough to me to try… because who's to say I wouldn't done all of this the same way she did?

Besides, I've endured worse torment before. I don't think I could live with myself if I let her go, when she's the only person who has made me truly happy. I can't say we'll find that again, but I still have a chance to make a good life with the one person that's always fought for me. And I know that much. She has always, _always_ fought for me. That much even I can see.

I want to tell her this, but my pain chokes the words. For now. It doesn't take away the hurt, but how can I blame her? She made a mistake, and a big one at that, but if I know myself at all, I'll make my fair share of mistakes. I have to at least try and salvage something.

She lets out a soft sob, breaking me from my thoughts. She shakes her head miserably before she chokes out, "You know what you're feeling right now, Tobias? I have lived almost _twenty years_ with these feelings. They're messy and hard to understand, and it feels like there's no way to describe how it feels… Believe me when I say it took almost every goddamn day of all that time to figure it out for myself, probably because I wouldn't go to therapy for help. It's hard to not be hopelessly distrusting of the whole concept after everything… I mean, how ironic, getting therapy for bad therapy…" She laughs bitterly, thus ceasing her tears.

She wipes her face dry before she continues, finally looking at me. "I never forgot." She's not angry with me, but she's clearly miserable. There's a hint of desperation, one I feel at the center of my being, too, but she's too strong to let that be what wins her over. Not this woman, not a chance.

"I need you to understand that for my whole life, I remember _everything_ , and I had to do it alone. I remember all the horrible things David and those doctors used to tell us and put us through. I remember them strapping you to a chair and _torturing_ you. I remember that my own father put me in the program that was torturing _me_. I remember your father abusing you for his own disgusting reasons behind the name of therapy. I remember every time I could hear your screams when you were alone with one of them. I didn't forget. I never forgot… not even for a second."

As upset as I feel about being lied to, about her keeping something this huge from me, suddenly all I feel now is shame. My body deflates, taking in the weight of her words. Tris went through so much of this, too… and from the way she tells it, she's the only child that has memories of anything that happened.

Well, and now me.

"I'm sorry, Tris. I didn't… I wasn't thinking, I never realized..."

I expect her to be angry at me, pissed that I'd be so selfish or thoughtless to think so little of her… hell, _I'm_ angry at myself enough for the both of us right now, but her expression is gentle when our eyes meet.

"No, do _not_ apologize. I still should have told you sooner, with the way we were growing together. You're right about that." She sighs as she collects her thoughts for a moment. "Look, the only reason I'm telling you this is so you can know why. You deserve to understand why I did what I did, and I've already kept enough from you. After everything I've put you through, I guess I just wanted you to know I would never have kept it from you if I thought knowing the truth right now would help you. With everything else going on, the last thing I thought you needed was to remember all of that. I would have told you the first moment I saw you had I known it was you, but I only realized it was you later that night we first kissed. When it hit me, _I_ was blindsided, and I thought we _both_ needed time... Why do you think I tried so hard to push you away after the fittings yesterday?"

We sit with that for a long time, and slowly, my anger starts to work itself out with logic and reason. For the first time, I'm finding it easy to let my rage just fall away. An hour ago, this was unforgivable. Now, all I can think about is how afraid I am of this being it for us.

She covers her face with her hands, groaning a bit. "There's more I need to tell you," she whispers before removing her hands to look at me. "This… Tobias, this… was… _is_ the hardest part, for me." She takes a shaky breath and forces her eyes to stay with mine. "After my father told me what he did about you, he… he had to report it to Marcus and David, and… Well, he… My father h-had to continue…" I'm not understanding, and she can see it. Her lip quivers pitifully before she gets out, "He had to continue some of the therapy at home…"

My stomach lurches at the thought of it, of Andrew doing any of that to Tris, _his daughter_. I want to scream, to find that worthless, stinking, rotting pile of _shit_ and put him through what he put his child through, but she speaks before I can even picture it.

Her eyes fall away, staring blankly at the ground. "David didn't want any loose ends, and... well, to him, that's what I was. Not a six year old, but a liability. Not only did the therapy not work on me, but I had incriminating information without the skill to suppress it. Or, so they thought."

She shakes her head as a fresh wave of tears falls down her cheeks. "They had these drugs they'd give us, and it was supposed to make it easier to block off certain memories or forget altogether. They were trying to erase everything… and for me, that included you… my best friend."

We're quiet for ten ringing seconds before she somehow manages to continue, even though she looks like she's a second from crumbling. "As far as I knew, you were gone, and now, they wanted to erase every trace of you from my life and I-I couldn't... I can't imagine, I don't _want_ to imagine... I couldn't let them do it, so I just... pretended. When they asked their questions, I pretended like I didn't remember any of it, so they would stop trying to erase it all."

I can't take my eyes off of her and I can't move due to the vast chasm of pain that has hollowed out my chest. It's blinding and there's no way there's relief for this…

When her eyes meet mine, I feel the pain in them smart in my own chest. I don't understand… why? "Why wouldn't you let them do it? You could have forgotten all the pain, all the horror, the suffering… You could have moved on, had a happy, normal life. There'd be no nightmares or betrayal or loss. You'd have been free. Why wouldn't you take that?"

I watch her choke down a sob, willing herself to hold it together, but her body is trembling. "It wouldn't have been worth it," she whispers. "I could live with the pain… the nightmares, what my father did… but the idea of you being _gone?_ I couldn't live without you, even if all I had of you was the memory of you. Tobias, you… you were everything to me, and without you, I… I wouldn't be me."

My entire body sags as all of it hits, it connects, it falls into place. Any supposed transgression is abolished and erased when her truth washes over me. The understanding runs so deeply in me, there aren't words for it. Deep down, I know it's from a bond formed by two small, broken children locked in a place of horrors. She understands me in a way no one else ever will, and I understand her better than I understand myself. There's a million things I wish I could tell her right now, but all I can get out is her name.

" _Tris._ "

The tension eases from each of us before she can even close the distance between us, knowing without words that I need her right now. As small as she is, she finds a way to encompass me in her embrace as I cling to her desperately, burying my face into the crook of her neck. The sweet aroma of lavender and chamomile that I find on her skin relaxes me, but not as much as her fingertips drifting through my hair and down my back, or her deep steady breaths.

Then the tears come, against every protest in my body. Every fiber of my being tenses as I scream through a sob while simultaneously trying to make sure my hold on Tris doesn't become crushing. Instead of recoiling from me or pushing me away, she pulls me in tighter. It feels like permission; permission to break down, to stop fighting, to give in.

I read somewhere that there's power in surrender. I used to always think that referred to battle, particularly in the face of death. Now, I see it differently. Surrender is simply dropping defenses, accepting full vulnerability and trusting it into whatever hands may find it. I know Tris is the only person in the world I can trust without question, because even when we clash and hurt each other at times, it's never in an attempt to wound the other. It is to prune the parts of us left so neglected over the years.

What we are when we're together is not some symphony. We will collide over and over again as we have always done, so much so that it'd be easy to believe we were destined to break from the impact. It's already taken blood, sweat, and tears, and both of our goddamn stubborn natures to prove we're not made of something as fragile as glass. We're not figurines you keep behind glass cabinets or atop fireplace mantels. She is like a blade, and I am like a whetstone-

She is too strong to break so easily, and somehow, out of the insanity that is the two of us and the lives we've shared in this world so few have known, she becomes better, sharper, every time we collide, and through her, I have a purpose that's designed to strengthen, not destroy.

My impact won't break her, because I am not that kind of force. She's already strong enough for the both of us. I'm not alone in this, and she's been trying to show me that all along.

So, I surrender, and she clings to me like I cling to her, not daunted by my iron grip or strangled sobs and screams that rip themselves from my chest. Maybe, in a way, they're familiar, like the sounds ripped from our tiny bodies as children. In my weakness, she finds strength to take hold over every piece of myself that falls from my outstretched hands, holding them like they're her own. In a way, they are. She's the only person who's had me for who I am, who I've always been, and sees that as a gift.

She has become an extension of myself; a piece of myself I must tend and care for if I intend to survive. I am better, stronger, happier with her with me, and I'd hope to think I can be the same for her. If not today, someday.

She's worth it to me.

 **AN: Holy wow! The amount of response I got from chapter 18 was out of this world! Thank you all for your amazing feedback! You're all amazing! I'm not sure what else to say other than how grateful I am for your support. I can't wait to see what you all thought about this chapter. Did you see this coming? What do you think this is going to mean for Tris and Tobias here on out? How will that change things at the funeral and wedding, if it does at all? How do you think it'll change the next interaction with Andrew? This is just one of the many twists I have planned for you all. Muahahaha!**

 **I also wanted to say, if the Abnegation Therapy is still hazy, no fear! There will be a lot more information and specific memories in future chapters that will further delve into that past. Often times, when traumatic memories like the ones Tobias has come up, it can be hazy and unclear and just an overwhelming mess of information without much context. Since it's all so new for him, I wanted to highlight that. I'll try and make sure all questions get answered, though, one way or another.**

 **Feel free to keep posting theories because this absolutely is not the end of it hehe. We still have a whole day before the funeral and dress rehearsal, and two days until the wedding. You all are amazing and I hope you can forgive me for my cruelty in making you wait and what all I dumped here. I hope it's all worth it in the end!**

 **-Willow**


	20. Chapter 20

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth. Divergent isn't mine. You know the drill._

 _Rated M_ _ **for graphic depictions of child abuse**_ , _language, adult situations, etc._

 ** _WARNING_ - _The following chapter contains a detailed scene involving child abuse. (If you wish not to read this content, please skip over the beginning italicized section of this chapter.)_**

Chapter Twenty

 _David's eyes keep hold of mine, a look that is testing me. He doesn't blink, but at least I'm allowed to. It's the only way to stay awake for so long when my eyelids are so heavy, tired, desperate for sleep, and the muscles in my legs burn in protest of standing for so long. No matter how long I stand here staring, it's not long enough. When David told me we'd made it twenty-four hours, I was relieved. It couldn't be much longer now…_

 _But it's already been hours since then._

 _As the minutes tick on by, the heaviness wins over. My eyelids fall closed, and a second later, I feel another lash across my back. The pain is ripped from my stomach in a scream that seems to shred my vocal chords. Fresh drops of blood trail down my arms from the sores on my wrists. The ropes they used to tie me with dug into my skin deep enough to make it start bleeding hours ago, and with every new lash, it only gets worse._

 _"It's not too late to change your mind," David goads._

 _"No," I say through clenched teeth._

 _"Give up," he presses._

 _"No," I say again, my legs burning more intensely than ever. I know what will happen if I do, and I can't let it happen. I_ can't.

 _He nods at the person behind me, and another lash burns across my back and up over my shoulder, the end tip whipping across my collar bone. Another scream is torn from me, more agonizing than any before._

 _David stands from behind his desk and walks around it. He's watching me with his dull brown eyes like I'm a frustrating puzzle with a few pieces missing. "Give up," he says quietly._

 _"No," I huff out breathlessly. "I won't," I insist._

 _Another lash, this time straight down my spine. "Give up."_

 _"_ No _."_

 _Another, crossing from left shoulder down to my right hip. "What do you say now?"_

 _It takes a minute before I can respond, the pain so intense I can hardly breathe. "I… won't."_

 _More blood drips down my arms, the droplets trailing off my shoulder and down my bare chest. David looks over the bloody trail with little interest as he says, "If you close your eyes one more time, I will consider it as a sign that you've give up. Do you understand?"_

 _I do, but it's no use either way. Just minutes later, my eyelids grow heavier than ever. It seems the moment they close, the door behind me opens._

 _My back is to the door, but the sound of her whimper is all I need to hear to know it's Beatrice. It's the same sound she makes when she sneaks into my room at night to curl up into my side, her nightmares more taxing on her than the realities that cause them. She says only the sound of my heart can scare them away._

 _"Eaton?" she whimpers, surely scared of the tortured flesh of my back, the blood streaming from my wrists, and all that it may mean for her. I'm wide awake now, my heart struggling in my chest in an effort to comfort her, but it's no more trapped than I am._

 _"Turn around," David demands, and I do as I'm told. I know it will be worse for us if I don't._

 _Except it's already at its worst. Father holds Beatrice's arms behind her back by the wrists, but she's so small, his grip on her arms makes it so they are almost parallel to the floor. Her face is red with trying to hold in her pain, vastly contrast to the simple white cotton gown that goes to her calves. Her blonde hair falls over most of her face because she can't tuck it behind her ears like she usually does, especially when she's trying to think._

 _Father gives me a cold look. "You should be ashamed, Tobias. You failed,_ again _. Now little Beatrice has to take what you can't."_

 _"Don't listen to him, Eaton!" she cries out to me, which turns into a whine as Father pulls her arms up higher behind her back, just enough to silence her._

 _"No, don't, please, Father, please, I… I'll do anything, please-"_

 _The nurse with the belt whips me across my chest and stomach to silence me, probably at David's silent order behind me. Beatrice screams out in protest, and then in pain, probably at the hands of Father. Tears cloud my vision, making it hard to see Beatrice clearly._

 _"You had your chance, Tobias. You let your own selfish need cloud your duty. Now you see what happens when you fail."_

 _I'm just blinking back into focus as I see Father string Beatrice up like I was, forcing her rope bound hands above her head. Not once does she cry, though I do catch her biting down on her lip. I wouldn't blame her if she cried. She's not even five but still Beatrice doesn't cry when they whip her. Not until we're alone._

 _"I thought the lashes were supposed to be on skin," the nurse says._

 _Father shakes his head. "Not with this one. No scarring."_

 _The nurse steps forward, his face puckered in annoyance. "How many lashes?"_

 _"Until she can't take any more."_

 _Terror seizes me. "No, please-"_

 _The nurse turns back to me and whips me again. Marcus shakes his head at me. "You're being selfish. You're trying to make it worse for her."_

 _"No!" Beatrice protests. "It's not your fault," she gets out just before the nurse strikes her the first time. Her scream is ripped from her against her will, her face twisted miserably. Another lashing, another scream, then a third. She grows silent by the fourth, for a fifth, a sixth..._

 _"He doesn't care about you," Marcus growls at Beatrice. "Look at what he's doing to you?"_

 _"Liar!" Beatrice screams, suddenly struggling against the ropes wildly again._

 _The nurse starts lashing wildly, giving no pause and I lose count of how many lashes as her screams fill the room._

 _"Stop it!" I scream in horror._

 _But he doesn't stop. It never stops, not even as the white gown is speckled with her wounded skin._

 _"No, please, don't hurt her, please!" I'm screaming with everything I have but no one hears me. "Beatrice, you're okay!" I want it to be true... "You're gonna be okay,_ please _be okay-"_

 _Something starts to shake me violently, probably David or Father or another nurse. I wrench my body around to fight against their touch, but their hold is insistent._

 _"Let me go, stop it, I gotta stop-"_

"-not real, Tobias. It's just a dream. Wake up, _please_ -"

Something is clutched into my fists so securely my knuckles ache at the effort, but I can still hear Beatrice's anguished screams of pain and that's all that matters. My body shakes, heart protests fighting as much as it does retreating. Everything lurches as my body thrashes instinctively away from the person's hold until their touch is gone.

 _"I need to get to Beatrice. I need to stop it, I need-"_

"Hey, hey, hey, shhh, it's okay. Tobias, everything's okay. It was just a dream," a pleading, yet gentle voice breaks through. The sound makes my stomach churn, but my heart leaps in recognition. "Tobias, open your eyes. Look at me, baby. Please? You're okay... _I'm_ okay. Just look, you'll s-see-"

My eyes open in time to see a couple tears fall from Tris' perfectly blue eyes. They're sleepy, like she just woke up, but at the same time, vibrantly bright and alert. She's curled up in front of me, kneeling on the couch cushions in her effort to give me space. I've found myself pressed back against the arm of the couch, so much so the pain of it is the only thing keeping me still.

 _This isn't real. This is just the nightmare. This can't be real..._

"Tobias?" Her tears have stopped. Her voice, her eyes, her body language is all gentle, patient, tentative. _It's not real. She's not real._ She reaches out a hand slowly but even still, the moment her skin touches mine, I flinch. Lashes from leather belts and children screaming burn every wound that's resurfaced as I stare at her. _She's still there... How is she still there?_ The arm of the couch digs deeper, my back screaming in protest, but I can't stop.

Pain tells me this is real.

She raises her hand in surrender, her face alarmed. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay, Tobias. I'm not going to hurt you."

Slowly, subtly, the panic and fear fades away. The longer I stare at Tris, the more grounded I feel. When my shoulders finally slump, exhausted, I watch her relax a bit. She lowers her hands, but I can still sense she's cautious, just like I still feel on edge. Even with my wits coming back to me, my body is hyper-vigilant.

Slowly, she wiggles herself closer to me across the cushions until she's as close to me as possible without actually touching me. "I'm just going to hold your hand," she says as she reaches for me again. "Okay?"

I don't answer, and though my hand twitches initially at the contact, she holds my hand with both of hers and begins rubbing soothing circles over the top. When I don't pull away, she releases a sigh of relief. Her fingertips are warm and soft, comforting. _She really is here..._

After a minute, once I've calmed down enough, I can see her frown before she lets go of my hand and rises from the couch. "I'm going to get you some water, okay?"

I barely manage a nod. She hesitates to leave, but ultimately does. Her absence brings a dread I can't stomach. I can practically still feel the lashes stinging on my back, burning stubbornly. Though the memory of Tris' screams have faded, I feel raw just at the echo of a memory...

When Tris returns with two glasses, she hands one to me before sipping from the other herself. I didn't realize how thirsty I was until the water touched my lips, but soon the glass is empty, and I'm already feeling a bit better.

She takes the empty glass and puts both hers and mine on the coffee table next to our emptied wine glasses. When she turns back to me, her eyes are heavy and tormented. It's a look that reflects much of what I feel, and I know only one thing, one person that makes it better…

Without really thinking about it, I sit up properly and reach for her, pulling her to me so that she stands right in front of me. My arms wrap around her where they can, I don't really take notice where as I bury my forehead into her stomach.

I sigh with relief with the feel of her encompassing me. Her fingers drift through my hair, lightly letting her nails trace shapes across my scalp. The feel of her breathing lulls me into a calm I haven't felt maybe ever, and I let myself focus just on her.

I don't want to think about anything else.

It's hard to say how long we stay together like this. When she gently pulls away from me, our eyes meet and hold each other. She looks much more awake, now, and her eyes have calmed. They don't look as heavy as they were. I can't imagine how I must look right now, but with the way she takes me in, that's not what matters to her.

Her hand continues to work through my hair when she asks, "Is there anything I can do?"

Shame falls over me in waves to the point that it's impossible to look at her any longer. It hits me rather abruptly, how much I've lost it and broken down in the past few hours. I've never fallen apart like this before in my life, and now I'm not sure where we stand.

"Hey, don't do that," her voice interjects, both her hands cradling my face so I will look at her again. Her eyes are wild and alert, intense. "Please, let me be here for you."

When I hesitate, she moves away from me and sits back on the couch before grabbing my hand and pulling me closer to her until she can guide me to lay down on my back. She settles my head into her lap where her right hand can run through my hair again while the other comes to rest on my chest, right over my heart. _That's her place._

We stay like this in complete silence for a long moment until she breaks it to ask, "Are you tired?" My wince is answer enough, so all she does is nod. We fall back into silence, but I know it won't help. The silence will be permission for memories to interrupt, and I can't handle that, I can't-

"Talk to me," she whispers, her hands trembling slightly. She must feel my racing heart from where her hand rests.

My breathing won't calm down, and neither will my heart. I can't even seem to get any words out, my eyes squeezing shut as memories start to work their way back to the forefront.

"Would it help if I talked instead?" she offers, and I feel myself nodding in response. "Okay," she whispers.

My hands are just starting to shake, egging my heart rate to race on, too, when I feel Tris' right hand still in my hair, right before she begins speaking in a gentle voice. "It took me awhile to adjust to being… well, a kid, after getting out of Abnegation. While the conditioning didn't work on me like it should have, it still influenced me. Probably still does, in a way, but I am still luckier than most."

I'm not sure I want to think about the aftermath of the therapy at the moment, but it's better than the memories of abuse flooding my mind, so I keep quiet. At this point, I think the only thing I care about is that Tris stays with me. With that much already accomplished, it's not hard to let myself get lost in her spoken thoughts.

"My mom had me home schooled the whole first year I was back and able. I had some problems being at a school, at least at first, but by third grade, I'd adjusted pretty well. It helped that I had met Christina and some other friends. It wasn't easy, but once I had friends, many things started to get better."

She's quiet for a minute, and to my relief, the silence doesn't feel threatening. I just close my eyes and focus on the feeling of her hand resting on my chest, the other stilled in my hair. "There were still parts of me that were... different, though. Kids noticed, but Christina was pretty good about having my back when I needed it. I could explain most of the odd behaviors one way or another in a way people could understand without getting into gruesome honesty. The hardest aspect to handle and explain were the odd fears… I'm not afraid of a lot, honestly, but what I _am_ afraid of has usually been… unusual."

"Unusual?" It's the first time I've spoken since she pulled me from my nightmare, and I can feel all of Tris' attention on me again as she looks down at me.

Her hand starts to move soothingly in my hair again, though it seems more for her comfort than mine this time. "Yeah," she chokes out, and I can see her eyes start to cloud over. "Just little things," she tries to brush off. "The one that really… I don't know, it just was so irrational, and I had no idea why I was scared," she starts to ramble.

Only when I turn my head a little to better look up at her does she pull herself back. "I was terrified of birds. There was this one day in second grade where a couple of kids ran through this flock of pigeons and I freaked out so bad, they ultimately had to send me home. My parents were both busy at work, so I went and stayed with Joyce. She was always our emergency contact."

In my mind's eye, I picture a small version of Tris, basing my vision off the photographs I saw in the hallway of her childhood home. I picture a younger Joyce pulling the frightened child into her arms to hold her. Everything in my chest aches at the thought, but I let the feeling keep me present.

"When she found out why I had been scared so badly, she decided to help me. She started teaching me all about birds. Different type of birds, what their purposes were, little interesting facts… She taught me beautiful things, and it wasn't long until the fear lessened enough to be negligible."

I push my head back a bit more, the back of my head almost on her knees at this point. From here, I can see part of her collarbone peeking out, but not her tattoo. With slow, deliberate fingers, I pull back the fabric until I can see the perfect ink that decorates her pale skin. Her skin is warm against my cool fingertips, but it's her skin that rises in goosebumps as they glide over the darker flesh.

"Is that why you chose these?" I ask of her tattoo.

She shakes her head gently. "Not exactly." Her hand stills in my hair again, bracing me for more. "Later that year, my parents took Caleb and I to a cabin for a vacation. There was this one afternoon when I was playing outside in the trees and stuff. I had drifted off from everyone when I came face to face with a raven. His eyes were dark, but the way the sky was reflecting off his eyes, they looked… haunting, and honestly, it reminded me of, well, you, a bit. So, the longer the bird stared at me, the more it felt like he was staring into my soul, blaming me for everything and... Well, it.. it absolutely terrified me. I panicked and took off running.

"When I had calmed down, I had become oddly curious and went looking for it. Though it had gone from his original place, I found him. I don't know how to describe it, but it was like, suddenly, he could understand me, the way he just looked at me and saw me." She shrugs subtly, suddenly self-conscious of her words, trying to put distance between herself and them.

"I read somewhere that ravens are some of the smartest animals there are," I say gently, hoping to relax her again.

Her lips flash me a glimpse of her radiant smile for one bright, shining moment before it flickers out. "They represent death and misfortune, they're clever and adaptable, they can remember anyone who has ever wronged them…" Her eyes meet mine again, her hands stroking through my hair again. "... and they remember those that are kind and help them."

We're quiet for quite a while, letting the dying out fire distract our attention before Tris breaks the silence. "Ravens don't forget," she says firmly, but still so softly, I can barely hear her words. "They remember who to trust and who to not, and their presence is a reminder that we all must face consequences for our choices."

I nod in understanding, my lips curled up a little at the thought of it. Her tattoo stands as a constant reminder to what she's survived, what she knows. It reminds me, too, that while this all may be new to me, it's her whole history. She's never had a break from the reality of our past. She's built and established her entire world around it, whereas I've done nothing but keep it buried beneath the surface of my foundation.

No wonder I feel like I'm crumbling...

"I want to show you something, if that's okay."

Her voice shakes me from my thoughts, and our eyes meet again. They're dark in this light, but still sparkling brightly from the fire's dying offering. Secrets she's not shared before still linger there, but no longer secrets that I'm afraid of. They're kind and healing, and I'm sure they will be shared with me in the right timing.

I nod slowly, letting her eyes burn in mine for a moment before she moves for us to sit upright. With my head off her lap, she stands effortlessly before turning to me, her face varying shades of shyness, anxiousness, and determination.

Before she can think too much about it, she grabs the hem of her blouse and slowly pulls it off her. The way her arms wrap around her as she lifts the garment from her body is enticing, and all I can do is watch as she unveils her porcelain skin. While a minute ago I was barely hanging on to my sanity, now all I can do is look at her, taking in the flawless, soft expanse of her fit stomach, the place where her ribs jut out as she stretches and maneuvers the blouse over her head and off her slender arms, revealing the only remaining garment on her top half that leaves hardly any mystery as to what she _really_ looks like…

That final garment is fairly simple; just plain black fabric with a small silky bow that rests right in the valley between her breasts. Simple, maybe, but the lines it creates in contrast to her shape is breathtaking. As much as staring at her is gratifying in and of itself, I'd give anything to be able to draw her like this: her small form framed by the glow from the fireplace, her hair draping her shoulders...

Our eyes find each other again. Deep down, I'm sure she's nervous and unsure about being so exposed, but it doesn't reflect at all. She bravely holds my gaze, as if this is natural for her.

Then she turns a little, shifting her left arm back and dragging her fingers towards her ribs, where I can see black ink. Underneath her bra curved across the left side of her ribcage reads, 'Remember me," and a fourth raven can be seen beside the phrase, on the side of her ribcage, right over where her heart is. While the three ravens on her collarbone all look like they're in flight, this fourth raven looks as if it's just stretching its wings to take flight.

My eyes dart up to meet hers, and I can see her with her lip caught between her teeth again, watching me in a searching way that I've grown to be familiar with. With our gaze locked, she says, "I got my ravens after I moved to Arizona. I met this tattoo artist and we became friends. She had this incredible masterpiece of a hawk that I couldn't stop admiring. When I asked her what it meant to her, she told me that it represented all the fears she had but chose to overcome despite of it. More specifically for her, the hawk represents the sun in some cultures. She always said, 'You can't be afraid of the dark if you walk around with the sun shining on your back.'"

My eyes widen when recognition hits. "Your tattoo artist was Tori Wu?"

Tris frowns. "How did you know that?"

A smile tugs at my lips a bit. "She did mine," I tell her, and I watch her face flush.

"Really?" she asks incredulously.

I can't stop my smile from growing, even a little bit. "Yeah. A guy from work recommended her, and she was the only artist who came up with a design I liked."

"Wow," Tris says with a smile of her own, now. "Small world…" She trails off for a second before the reality of her being nearly half naked, standing in front of me sinks back in. The blush on her skin is beautiful, and I almost miss the rest of her story because I'm so distracted by it. "But, yeah, Tori and I talked a lot after that, and when I was over at her shop, she was showing me some a book of sketches she'd done."

Her fingers lightly brush over the raven on her ribcage and says, "I froze when saw this raven, but flying out of a birdcage. Tori thought I had a stroke or something, because I just stared at it for the longest time, unresponsive…" Her fingers move away from the tattoo, almost in shame. "All I could think about was you, trapped somewhere, whether in the therapy or in death or in whatever hold they still had on you, and my heart broke all over again."

Tris releases a heavy sigh, and I watch her ribs expand and deflate as she does it, each one defined under her taut skin. "Then the next page of her book of sketches was a group of ravens in flight, and I just knew what I wanted to do. I thought it through, gave myself some time, but really, I just lost sleep over it. Every time I'd close my eyes, I'd see ravens and… and the boy that was lost in time and in my memories. So, I went back and asked for the three ravens on my collarbone… Not just representing my family, but as a reminder of where I was, now, and a way to honor my old life without having to continue it.

"Once those were done, I went back a couple months later and I asked for the work on my ribs, to represent the part of myself that I'd sacrifice everything to preserve. I wanted a reminder of why I survived like I did. I wanted something of you that was permanent and, in a way, tangible; something I could have all for myself."

Without thinking, I reach out and brush the ink with as soft of a touch as I'm capable of, starting with the beginning of the words, followed by tracing the outline of the raven. Her skin is warm and smooth, but quickly pebbles with goosebumps the longer my fingers linger. My palm moves to rest over the bird that she got for _me_ , my fingers curving around her side.

"It was the closest thing I could think of for closure," she whispers barely loud enough for me to hear, "because at least a part of you would stay with me, close to my heart for the rest of my life."

Our eyes meet again, and I can see the tears in her eyes already threatening to spill over. It sparks a pain that smarts in my chest, aching in my bones, sharp in every nerve ending. The pain is such that I don't even think twice in saying, "I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

The tears spill over when she smiles at me, and I don't even know how it happens, but the next thing either of us knows, she in my arms, holding me almost as tightly as I'm holding her. We don't move away, even when we register how exposed she still is, until we're both calm again.

When she pulls away, I can't help my eyes drifting over her torso before I'm able to force my eyes away. The lock on something over her shoulder but I'm not really _looking_ , because I can just make out her blush.

She makes no move to cover up when she says, "I thought the longer I stayed like this, the easier it'd be," and all the tension from this morning and last night and right now melts away as we laugh.

"Maybe you haven't given it enough time," I tease. I expected her to jokingly swat at me or scold me for being forward, but she doesn't say anything at all. In fact, she stops laughing altogether.

I stop laughing, too, when I meet her eyes, finding the heavy, needy look that was there earlier. It's so reminiscent of the moment we shared before the memories all came flooding back that I'm struggling to remember what the hell it was we were talking about.

She's still not wearing a shirt.

It seems we're at a standstill, and we stay that way for a while before she gets out a feeble, "We should get some sleep." She looks disappointed in having to suggesting it, but it's bound to be really late.

I know she's right, especially after everything that happened yesterday, so I agree and add, "Yeah, so we have plenty of rest for whatever tomorrow brings." It's enough to appease me, for now.

It must be bear the same impact with her, because she smiles. "That's a good idea. Who knows what could happen?"

 _Who knows?_

She carefully pulls her shirt back on before grabbing my hand and pulling me from the couch. I tend to the fire, to put it out thoroughly while Tris folds the blanket we had used and takes the empty glasses to the kitchen. She's gone long enough that I'm guessing she took the time to wash them, as well.

Once she's returned, and without another word, I take her hand in mine and head her upstairs. I'm reminded vaguely of the dream I had of her the other night. While most of that dream is not meant for tonight, just her presence accompanying me feels fulfilling.

I give her a little tour of this floor, showing her where the two bathrooms are before I hesitate. The only two bedrooms on this floor are the guest room I've been staying in and Marcus' bedroom. The only other two are upstairs.

I've avoided my own childhood bedroom out of fear of being there and being reminded of my past too readily, but so long as Tris is in the house, I think it might be okay. So, I lead her to the room I've been staying in, taking her duffel bag she grabbed on the upstairs and set it on the bench at the foot of the bed, next to where mine sits.

"This will be the warmest room, so you can stay in here, if that's alright." I can see her eyes taking in my own luggage, the various items that have made their way onto the dresser or over the back of the armchair in the corner. It's a neutral, observant gaze as she takes in the room, showing no hint of distaste, so I'm a bit relieved.

I go to my bag and pull out a t-shirt and flannel sleep pants before I turn back and look to her. "Is there anything I can get you?"

She looks at me a bit surprised. "No, I'm fine, it's amazing in here…" She's back to biting her lip, but I'm not sure why.

"Okay… Well, then I guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Wait, where are you going?" she asks, alarmed.

There's a long, awkward silence that leaves us staring blankly at the other, desperate to be able to read minds. "Uh… upstairs?" My ears are burning by the time my hand reaches the back of my neck. _Old habits die hard._

She's still staring at me, but her face is twisted in a frown that makes my stomach clench painfully. "Oh," is all she gets out, but even in just the one small, breathy word, I can hear the amount of disappointment it hides, which is far more than I care to even fathom.

"It's just I, uh... I don't know, because it's so cold out, and this is the warmest room next to the master, I just thought you'd… you'd find it more comfortable in here. Is that okay?"

She gives me a tight smile and an overly light, "Yeah!" in reply.

"What's wrong?" I ask her, not being able to stomach it another second.

She shrugs casually, but she won't meet my eyes as she says, "It's nothing."

My entire demeanor gets stern in a way I'm not used to being with her. It's how I am with strangers, and it's startling to the both of us. "Don't," I grit out. "Tell me," I add, a bit softer.

At the sound of my voice, her eyes meet mine in shock. It takes her a few minutes to get it out, but when she does, her voice is steady and clear. "I'm… confused."

It's my turn to frown at her. "About what?"

She huffs, frustrated by how oblivious I am of the apparent elephant in the room. "This is your room, is it not?"

I shrug a little. "Technically, no. It's only where I've been staying. My room is upstairs, but I didn't want to stay there when I first got here."

"Well, that's my point." She holds my gaze but nothing kicks in, to her utter frustration. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to work something out. "You're kicking yourself out of your own space. Why?"

She opens her eyes to watch me reply, which is good, because she can see just how confused I am. "Because… I didn't want to have either of us stay in Marcus' room, and it's cold in the rooms upstairs."

The look she gives me makes my stomach twist in knots, flipping anxiously with every second she holds my gaze."Tobias, what exactly were you planning to do up in one those cold bedrooms upstairs? Freeze all night for _no reason_?" Her face is etched with concern, now, and a hint of hurt that I can't rationalize.

"I have extra blankets," I offer casually, trying to make up for my thoughtlessness. But really, it's more about how I'm not sure there's an easy way to tell her that I'm used to suffering through the cold winter nights without blankets or heat. "Besides, it's not for nothing. You didn't think I was going to stick you on the floor, did you?" I ask before a tittering laugh escapes me.

She looks away, embarrassed as she says, "No, but I… I didn't expect you to _leave_."

For the first time since I've seen her at the airport, when I look at her, I see the little girl I first knew. _Beatrice_. She looks small and frightened, and it absolutely makes me sick to my stomach, especially when I remember all the times she'd sneak into my room at night when we were kids, so she could sleep with her head above my heart. It was as much of a comfort to me as it was to her, but I never stopped to think that her sleep may still suffer like mine does. Even before, I had odd nightmares and more restless nights of sleep than decent ones.

"I don't have to leave," I offer in a soft voice, looking at her with an apologetic look. "Not if you don't want me to."

She looks like she's trying to shrug off the offer, but there's a wavering look in her eyes that exposes the raw truth in her eyes. She does want me to stay, just like it used to be, but she would never allow herself to ask that. I wish she wouldn't see her needs as such a burden.

So, I step forward, close the space between us until I'm less that a foot away from her. Her beautiful eyes find mine, but they hold so much guilt and shame, it makes my chest ache. It only gets worse when she says, "I have no right to ask anything of you, _ever_. I… I don't even quite know why you've let me stay, but I'm too selfish to question it."

I'm filled with rage again, but not because of Tris this time. Knowing what the therapy was like for me and how Marcus was with me in the years following my time in Abnegation, it's not hard to piece together the clues that point to Andrew being the one who has made Tris feel inferior and inadequate. Even outside of the therapy, I know it was Andrew who cut her down instead of helping her thrive. Now, she examines her flaws and shortcomings with a microscope, sometimes picking up on things I can't see with my own unaided eye.

I know this is because of Andrew, and I hate that man because of it.

"Stop it," I plead, forcing our eyes to stay locked together. "You are not selfish, and you don't owe me a thing. After everything you went through, Tris, I don't blame you for any of this. Maybe you could have made better choices, but I think you would have if it had looked like an option at the time. I trust you enough to know you did the best with what you had in the moment. I won't hold it against you, but I need you to do the same. I can't watch you punish yourself for this any more than you already have."

Tears are welling in her eyes, and I can see those words meant more to her than I could ever truly know. "I don't deserve you," she murmurs.

I shrug and offer her a little smile. "And I don't deserve you. So, maybe we're both a little selfish."

She has her arms around my waist before I can say anything more, and as if by instinct, my arms make their way around her, too. We hold each other like this for a long time, just breathing each other in. Even though we're both exhausted, physically and mentally, I don't need to take any time to know this is exactly where I want to be.

So when she asks me to stay, I nod before placing a kiss to her temple. When we release each other, we each take a different bathroom and get ready for bed. I come back to the room to find her dressed in a maroon and gold ASU t-shirt and a pair of grey sleep pants. Even though it's loose fitting, and any trace of makeup is gone from her face, she's still breathtaking, especially when she smiles at me like I'm the only person she wants to see.

Wordlessly, we climb into bed. I settle in on my back as she turns out the light and eases herself next to me, snuggling up to my left side. Her ear rests right above where my heart beats nervously, and her hand smooths over my stomach until it rests comfortably. I can't resist bringing my hand to hers, but it's she who intertwines our fingers.

We fit together perfectly, and just before exhaustion pulls me under, I think about having her here… I'm overwhelmed with how I never want to know what it's like to live without her ever again. For the first time ever, it actually feels like being home.

* * *

 **AN- Sorry I posted so late today. I had two wisdom teeth removed on Wednesday, plus I've had to put in a ton of extra hours working to pay for some expenses. (Adulting sucks- don't do it, it's a trap!) Anyway, it kept me away from writing and editing for most of last week, so I've had some catching up to do. That said, due to having to put in extra time at work still, the next few chapters may be delayed. I'm going to work really hard not to fall behind, but I can't make any promises. Life... Gotta love it haha.**

 **So, I'm sure some of you hated reading the nightmare as much as I hated writing it, but I wanted to capture the true essence of not only their shared experiences, but of their bond. As for the tattoo, what do you all think of that? Those of you who've seen the cover photo can get a relative visual of Tris' tattoo (though it's not exactly how I envision the tattoo, but pretty dang close)- and just another little tie in to the title, but definitely not the last!**

 **As always, thank you all so so so much for every single new review, fav, and follow, as well as the pm's. I am so touched by the overwhelming support and response. I expressed to a few of you how nervous I had been over the last chapter and the therapy reveal. Then to see what you all had to say... Wow! I appreciate it so much.**

 **-Willow**


	21. Chapter 21

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters belong to Veronica Roth_

 _Rated M for language and mature content_

 **AN- In this chapter, dialogue that is** _italicized_ **indicates a quote from the source I'll talk about in AN at the end.**

Chapter Twenty-One

A soft, though annoyingly persistent chirping sound is what wakes me. Normally, it would be the sunlight pouring in through the windows, but I was in such a deep, pleasant sleep, it didn't seem to bother me enough, seeing as the room is already flooded with early morning light. Not when I can feel the weight of Tris' head still on my chest, as well as her one leg now tangled between mine.

I ghost my fingers along her back, up and down a few times. The motion brings me comfort in the gentle reminder that Tris is here, actually here, with me. After everything, she's still here...

The chirping doesn't stop, and it takes me a full minute to realize it's on a sequence, probably for an alarm. Reluctantly, I move to wake her up, squeezing the hand I've still got a hold of from last night. "Tris?"

She groans in her sleep, burying her face into my chest in protest. All I can see is her beautiful wild mess of hair, it's sweet scent laced with a hint of the fire that warmed us last night, and a scent distinctly her own. I want to just bury my face in it, take this moment all in and let it swallow me whole, but I don't know how important that alarm is, so I postpone the notion.

With another squeeze of my hand, I try again. "Tris? Are you awake?"

She makes another sound of protest, her leg squeezing around mine a bit tighter. It's impossible to hold back my grin.

 _This is how I want to wake up every day…_

Had words like those drifted across my mind even yesterday, I would have fought them. I would have seen them as a threat and done what I could to put distance between us. I would have questioned my ability to ensure her safety and happiness with my presence. I would have doubted how much she cares for me. I grew up believing distance was safety, but in these past few days, I've grown to know better than to believe something so foolish. Distance is what nearly destroyed us.

After everything the two of us has been through, from the torment we endured as children, the comfort we sought and gave because of it, and the familiarity we've rediscovered now, pushing her away is like pushing away sustenance. I know I can only survive so long without her, and with every day apart, the more a part of me grows cold and lifeless. With her, I can be everything I've strived to be, which is everything Marcus was not.

She makes me believe it's possible, but I know, I _know_ it's only her that could affect me this way.

While part of me admits it might be a little soon to think like this, a stronger, more dominant part of me is tired of overthinking everything. I just want to enjoy having her with me again, for as long as I can…

Tris hisses out a sigh against my chest before she turns, peeking out from behind her mess of hair. I can only see one bright blue eye, still heavy with sleep, but it's alight with peace. I can practically see the smile shining in it, a pure, unadulterated bliss.

"There she is," I tease as I brush her hair a bit more out of her face. "I thought you'd left me," I joke.

She lifts her head a bit, tendrils of hair falling down towards her shoulders and revealing most of her face as a result. "You're stuck with me," she says in a small, tentative voice, and as much as she looks content to be here, I can see the hint of apprehension and uncertainty starting to creep back into the back of her mind.

"As if I'd let you leave," I say with a wink. I hope it reassures her.

She visibly relaxes for a moment, before the chirping sound finally seems to grab her full attention. Her eyes widen for a millisecond before she quickly disentangles herself from my limbs and the blankets, crawling over everything to the foot of the bed. She dives quickly into her bag and pulls out a small yellow plastic packet that opens up like a clam shell. I can see a bunch of little pills inside, and she pushes on one to release it in her other outstretched palm.

"What's that?" I ask before I can think better of it.

She looks over her shoulder at me briefly, trying to bite back a smirk. "It's called Mononessa."

I frown, curiosity getting the best of me. "What is it for?"

She stashes the packet back into her bag before grabbing a small bottle of water she had tucked in her bag. She takes the pill and washes it down before she climbs off the bed to silence the chirping alarm coming from her phone on the dresser. Only when it's quiet again does she turn back to face me, observing me with an amused sort of gaze.

"It's a type of birth control," she says evenly, staring straight at me. I can feel my ears go red as the words sink in, which only makes Tris giggle. She quickly comes back to bed and settles beside me. She keeps her eyes on mine, a trace of a smile lingering.

I'm not sure what to say or what to think, so all I get out is a nervous, "Oh." Even though one of my best friends is a woman who talks candidly and openly about the ins and outs of her life, I still know very little about this subject.

Tris grins at my response. "It's to regulate my _cycle_ ," she clarifies, and I find I'm letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. This makes her laugh. "I get the other perks too," she adds, which only makes her laugh harder when my eyes widen in surprise.

Before I can say or do anything more, she leans in and kisses my cheek, a smile lingering on her face. There's a hint of blush, too, but it compliments her. I want to pull her back to me, but she's climbing back out of bed. "Can I make us breakfast?"

 _Shit_. "I, uh, haven't gone grocery shopping. There's not really anything in the kitchen. We can go out, or I can pick up some stuff, if you'd like."

She twists her mouth in thought, her eyes squinting up at the ceiling as if it holds answers for her. When she looks back to me, she has a shy smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Is it alright if we stay in? This week has been so hectic, I kinda just want to take some time to be away from it, you know?"

I grin in understanding. "I know what you mean." I sit up, pulling myself to the edge of the bed and stretching. "It won't take long for me to run to a store and grab some food. I'll just keep it simple. Any requests?"

She shrugs her left shoulder casually. "I'm not picky, so I'll eat just about anything. Maybe just some cereal for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch. Whatever is easiest." After going over a few ideas, we come to a consensus.

I take a quick shower and get ready quickly before heading out, leaving Tris to get ready for the day without me being around. It's a five minute drive to the store, and it only takes me fifteen minutes to get everything on my list. It's probably more than we'll need, especially if Tris is only staying for the rest of today, but I'd rather be prepared than not.

As I head towards the checkout, I see a small stand with various little items, and my eyes catch on a deck of cards. On impulse, I throw the pack in with the food. I'm not sure if she'll be down for card games, but it can't hurt to try, right? It's not like I have much else to do back at the house. Marcus never even owned a television, so entertainment is pretty scarce.

On my way back to the car to put everything away before driving home, I pass a shop where a small, wispy woman on a smoke break complains loudly on the phone. I would've happily ignored her conversation if her voice weren't as harsh as nails on a chalkboard, stealing my attention. "-hasn't calmed down since the wench left. Wouldn't even buy no others, neither. She'd run Mr. Reyes through the ringer for them bulbs and up and ditches 'em _after_ he told her they're in. I've never seen a person get so red 'fore this."

Just then, who I can only imagine is this Mr. Reyes, judging by the shade of his face, busts out of the shop and screams at the woman. "Your fifteen ended five minutes ago, Whitney!" He disappears back into the shop without another word, but I could hear his huff of annoyance from here.

"Shit, gotta bounce. Wish me luck, or better yet, maybe Johanna will be back. Talk to ya later, Lovey." The woman, Whitney, hangs up a moment later and retreats into a picturesque little shop called Amity Flowers.

The front windows showcase jaw dropping displays of flowers and other little plants. Even from here, I see the obvious and distinctive roses, bright sunflowers, dainty daisies, and brilliant lavender, but there are dozens of other blooms I couldn't possibly name, though I still recognize many of them. Something about the place draws me in, so I put my bags in the car and will myself to go inside.

I've not been one for flowers in the past, but with the way this place smells, I'm happily surprised. I find myself taking deep, refreshing breaths of the lush life lingering in the air. My eyes are just as pleased, taking in every color imaginable in so many different variety of flower.

Before I even have a chance to take more than a few steps in, a soft, but gripping voice catches my attention. "Good morning, and welcome to Amity Flowers." I turn to see a stout woman with a kind face, despite her dark hair covering one side of her face, bending over an arrangement of what I think are lilies. I've only seen lilies in white, while these are pink.

The woman straightens to her full height, though that couldn't be much more than five feet in total, adjusting her red skirt before she unrolls the sleeves of her yellow sweater so they take their place snug around her wrists. She walks out from behind the counter and comes to me. "My name is Johanna. How may I help you today?"

I'm about to introduce myself when she tucks her hair behind her ear, revealing a scar that goes from one cheek to the other. Though her hair had shielded most of it from view, shadow had obscured the rest of it. Words fall away for a moment, but I catch myself before the hesitation becomes rude. "Tobias," I say, offering my hand politely. She gives a modest shake before releasing my hand, clasping hers behind her back. "I, uh, honestly…" Embarrassment washes over me. Why was I here? "I just felt drawn to come in."

Johanna beams like I just paid her the best compliment ever. "Lovely! Hopefully I can be of help to you, today. I suppose my first question out the gate would be if you're interested in something for yourself or a gift."

My answer comes as naturally as breathing. "Gift." My thoughts instantly drift to Tris. I know she's waiting for me, but maybe the wait could be worth it...

Johanna gives me a knowing look. "Alright, tell me about this special person. Your eyes just light up, so that must mean they're pretty special."

Again, as if it's instinct, I nod in confirmation. "She's definitely special." Johanna grins happily, nodding for me to continue. Something about Johanna makes me feel at ease, so I offer up more than I'd do so otherwise. "We were best friends as kids for almost six years. She... moved away, so I didn't see or hear from her for a good sixteen… no, seventeen years."

"Wow," Johanna breaths, her eyes wide with surprise. Before I can continue, she asks, "After all this time, how'd you find her?"

I can't help but grin a little. "As crazy as it sounds, we ended up at the same bar when stranded at the same airport, waiting to get on the same plan to come home for the week."

Johanna gives me a challenging look. "No way."

"I'm not kidding," I say with a laugh. "I didn't know who she was at first, but we just got to talking and getting to know each other, only as adults this time. It wasn't that I didn't recognize her at all, because looking back, her eyes grabbed me right way, but… it took me a while to remember that this was indeed my first friend. Now that we remember, though, it only makes this time even more special."

She's shaking her head in wonder. "You should call up one of those big name Hollywood guys and get yourself some rights for a movie." I can't help but laugh a little at her teasing. "So, I'm certain I could find something here that'd make her smile. The question is, what exactly is it you'd like it to say?"

Her look is so expectant, I'm sure I've missed something. "What do you mean?"

She grins a little, noting how lost I am, and explains, "Every flower has a message it shares. You don't have to always go by their meaning, but I find that if you put the time to give the arrangement something to say, it will always speak for itself."

She begins walking to a counter that has many arrangements already made. She stops at the first and brushes her fingers along a pink carnation. "The woman who designed this arrangement picked these because they represent the love of a woman, or in this case, her mother." She moves to an arrangement down the line and laughs as she says, "Yellow carnations, however, mean disdain." She adjusts one said flower in the arrangement, shaking her head vaguely. "You'd be surprised how many people send flowers to people they never want to see again." She laughs at my raised eyebrows, but not at my expense.

Before we can continue, I hear a loud crash from behind a door that I'm sure leads to a back storage room of some sort before a voice booms, "GODDAMN TULIPS!"

Johanna scowls before her expression softens to apologize. "My brother's temper is not amusing in the slightest, but our day has started a bit sour. Certainly not nearly as perfect as the absurd amount of tulips now in our possession."

I'm reminded of the conversation the woman, Whitney, was having on the phone outside. "I overheard something about a cancellation?"

Johanna nods. "Unfortunately, yes. Now, we have more tulips than we know what to do with, and you know, they're not exactly a dime a dozen this time of year. Not here, anyway."

I'm not sure if I'd be able to pick out a tulip if my life depended on it. "Are they a nice flower?"

Johanna beams. "One of my favorites, especially the variegated ones." At my looks of confusion, Johanna's face softens in understanding and quickly goes to the back door. "Hold tight, I'll show you."

She disappears for a minute and returns with a bundle of assorted buds; purples, pinks, red, yellow, orange, white, all in varying shades, even dual toned. Some of them are bright, while others are more subdued. Something about them makes me think inexplicably of Tris.

"These beauties have such tender meanings," she begins, setting the flowers out so I can examine them better. "It is said tulips signify a declaration of love, or even a perfect love. Now, before you get all spooked like most men do, a perfect love can mean many things. So, ask yourself, 'What would I do if this person were taken from me forever?'"

My stomach drops, chest tightens, world tilts, all just at the idea of my life returning to what it had been before I found Tris again. Even in the midst of the screaming and hurt last night, the prospect of losing her was plaguing. Johanna must see my reaction, because she's nodding. "Yeah, I'm sure you know what that feels like better than most men do when they come in here. So, now, ask yourself this: Is there anything you _wouldn't_ do to keep her a part of your life?"

 _Probably not._

It must read plainly on my face again, because Johanna just smiles. "Then you're in the clear," she assures me. "Now, different colors have different meanings, which always makes it more fun. You said you recognized her by her eyes?"

I nod. "They're beautiful, too. I've always found them fascinating."

Johanna rubs her hands together happily. "Oo, jackpot!" She scoops up a few of the buds with dual tones, the second color looking like watercolor against the base color of each flower. "These are those variegated tulips I mentioned. They have that precise meaning: beautiful eyes."

I'm immediately drawn to one particular bud. Its base color is white, but accented with what look like brush strokes of red paint along its petals. The stark contrast of the crisp, perfect white and the deep red is striking.

"Like that one? You could pair that with some solid red or white tulips and it'd be lovely. Or, you could partner it with some orange to complement the red."

I look at the respective tulips still in the bunch, and they're also beautiful. "What do the different colors mean?"

She hesitates, looking me over for a moment in thought, before she suggests, "Why don't you just pick what looks best. Listen to your gut, first, and see what it could say."

I'm a little unsure, but when Johanna assures me she'll tell me what the colors mean after I choose, I tentatively agree. To start, I look at each flower. I try to think what Tris would find most beautiful, or which ones seem to remind me of her most. Some catch my eye a bit more than the others, and soon, I've narrowed it down to three, excluding the red and white variegated one I picked out earlier.

I hold up the white and cream tulips in one hand, considering them both carefully. "I can't decide which I prefer. The white matches this variegated one, but something about the softer cream is nice." Something about the dilemma strikes me funny. "You know, it's kind of like her… At a glance, they're not much different, but they come across in different ways. And she's both this sharp and soft, depending on the moment."

"Well, with tulips, _the white represents a clean slate, humility, honor, forgiveness and starting anew_ ," Johanna explains. " _A white tulip can also express regret and can be given when offering an apology. Cream tulips are slightly darker than white tulips and can represent commitment, eternal bonds and deep love_. It's actually quite lovely to have the two combined, and if broken up with the red and the variegated tulips you picked out, it would probably be a striking arrangement."

I nod in understanding before turning my attention to the solid red tulip that matches the color of the variegated tulip. "And what does the red mean? Is it like roses?"

Johanna chuckles. "To an extent, yes. _Red tulips signify passionate love and belief in love. Receiving a red tulip can be code for 'believe me' or 'believe in me_.'"

Something about those words makes my heart swell. I must be pretty transparent today, because I get another knowing look from Johanna. "How about I whip something together, see if you like it?"

We quickly discuss price, which I wave off as a non-issue, for once a gift from Marcus. Johanna disappears back behind the door for a while. Whitney comes out from the back to work the floor, giving me a polite nod as she passes.

Some time later, Johanna returns with a work of art. In the very center of the bouquet, elevated more so than any other bud, is the red and white variegated tulip I picked earlier. Surrounding it are three of the bright white tulips. Surrounding is a small ring of solid red tulips. The next ring is comprised of the cream tulips, filling in the spaces between the red tulips. The final ring is of the variegated and red, alternating every other bud. Breaking up the buds are the bright green leaves, making the whole thing truly a vision.

"What do you think?" Johanna asks, though judging by the look on her face, she can already tell how I feel about it.

I indulge her anyway. "It's perfect." I spend several minutes thanking her as she finishes it off with decorative paper and a red ribbon. Once I pay and offer a final thank you, I take the bouquet and head for home.

By the time I get back to the house, I've been gone a little over an hour. It's a lot longer than I anticipated, but I hope it pays off. I grab all the bags of food, but leave the bag with the deck of cards and the flowers in the car, wanting to be able to really surprise her. I want to be able to focus on her reaction. I've never done anything like this for someone before, and while I'm sure she won't _mind_ , she may be indifferent, which makes me more than a little nervous.

I find her perched on the island in the kitchen dressed in burgundy jeans and a loose black sweater that threatens to fall off her right shoulder, looking at her phone while absently nursing a glass of water. Her hair is in a loose braid that's pulled over her shoulder, exposing her slender neck as well. The exposed skin looks soft, almost glowing from the mid morning light sneaking in through the gaps of the curtains. A part of me wants to abandon all plans I've haphazardly put together in exchange for drowning myself in everything that's her, but the prospect of seeing her face light up with a surprise is too good to abandon quite yet.

Besides, it's not like there won't be time for that, if she's interested…

She must've heard me enter, though, because she looks up at me with a brilliant smile before I have much time to take her in. She slides off the island effortlessly and crosses over to me, taking bags from me to relieve the load without a word. When I get the rest of the bags set down, I tell her I have a couple more bags to grab before running out to get the last of everything while she starts unpacking the bags. I come back to find her putting away the milk into the refrigerator.

I stand there watching her for a lot longer than is probably socially acceptable. She moves effortlessly, humming to herself as she goes. I don't recognize the song, but her voice is warm and piercing, commanding me to listen. When she's standing in one place, she sways her hips in time with her song. The movement is effortless and smooth, second nature, making it impossible for me to find a reason to interrupt her.

It's only when the last bag of non-perishables remain that she turns enough to see me standing there, watching her contentedly. At first, she just smiles when she sees me. Then, her eyes fall upon my hands held behind my back, holding the last bag and the flowers from her view. She frowns curiously, taking a step forward in hopes of getting to look.

With a mischievous grin, I pull my left arm from out behind my back, offering her my first gift. I hold up the bag and say, "It's not much, but I figured we could make a date out of it."

She gives me a curious look, but thankfully her smile lingers as she reaches for the bag. Inside is a the deck of cards and a box of Lucky Charms. She gives me a surprised smile when she looks up at me. "Did you know Lucky Charms are my favorite?"

I didn't, but I quip, "Who's the mind reader now?"

That makes her laugh, which has easily become my favorite sound.

"There's more," I add after a minute, locking eyes with her briefly before revealing the other thing hiding behind my back.

The moment she lays eyes on the bouquet, she gasps, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise. "Oh," I hear her whisper in awe before she looks me in the eye, lowering her hand slowly. I don't intend for my smile to be so sheepish, but it only seems to affect her more.

"I saw this little shop and couldn't help going in," is all I say as I extend them to her more in hopes she'll take them.

I can see her eyes clouding with tears. "Tobias," she breaths, taking the flowers into her hands. Her eyes look over the "They're beautiful." She bites her lip, looking shyly up at me.

"The lady working there was really nice. She told me they all had meanings and let me look through all sorts of colors, telling me a little of what they meant. Then she put this together with the ones I picked out for you."

Before I can say or do anything more, she closes the distance between us and leans up to capture my lips in tender kiss. It's short and sweet, but speaks more to me than any sentence could communicate.

She pulls away, the flowers now clutched close to her chest as she smiles shyly again. My heart swells again, and I can't say I've had a more fulfilling moment than this, seeing such genuine, pure joy. While I wouldn't have admitted it to Johanna, now I'm willing to admit to myself that the meanings of those flowers bear more relevance than I'm letting on. I'm not ready to expand on it, not quite yet, but I'm sure that won't be the case for long.

I know everything will fall into place, sooner or later.

 **AN- I was originally planning on more to this chapter, but the Amity Flowers scene happened kinda last second and it seemed to be just enough for a little chapter of its own, so I split it off here. I figured you'd all rather have this little bit on time than have to wait several days/a week more for just one long chapter. It will still be decent length, so no worries there, but now the wait will be less. Besides, I think we all needed something light after that last chapter, right? I know I did!**

 **My source for the tulips was mainly hunker dot com, which I referenced "What Do Tulip Colors Mean?" many times. (Yes, I spent hours researching. Was it worth it? I guess we'll see!)**

 **Thank you to all to those who read, reviewed, faved and followed since the last update. It is always appreciated so much. I love hearing what you all have to say. I will have CH 22 up as soon as I have it finished, which hopefully will be Monday, but I apologize in advanced if the update is delayed.**

 **-Willow**


	22. Chapter 22

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters belong to Veronica Roth, and any brands or specific products named are not mine, either._

 _Rated M for language and mature content_

Chapter Twenty-Two

We spend the next couple hours eating Lucky Charms and playing with the deck of cards, curled up across from each other on the floor of the front living room. We start with War, a mindless game perfect to play while we eat and joke around. I get close to beating her twice, but ultimately, she beats me with a triumphant smile. After cleaning up after breakfast, we carefully attempt making a tower of cards.

It's not long until we settle into the comfortable conversation, nothing clouding over us in this moment. Everything feels resolved, even if it isn't completely. Maybe some would question how quick I am to let recent events go, but they would be naive in their understanding of the bond Tris and I share, and of the trust I have in her. Nothing erases the connection we created as children. Time may have obscured what it was we were seeing, but there's no denying it was always there.

She's a part of me just as much as I'm a part of her, no matter how you spin in.

After our third near completion collapses in a heap, with only a final two tiers left, Tris falls back on the floor, her arms flailing out like a ragdoll. "We were so close!" she huffs out.

I can't help but chuckle. "It's not supposed to be easy, you know. It takes a lot of patience, but when we get there, it'll be worth it."

Something about my words must strike her, because she gets very quiet as she cleans up the cards, returning them in a deck once more so we can start again. While we had been chatting contentedly earlier, now we share no conversation. It's only careful concentration.

Still, we work on building it up again. It's slow and tedious at this point, but we press on, almost stubbornly. We get tier after tier completed until, before we know it, we're at the place we were last time. She gives me a tentative look and I give her a reassuring nod, and carefully, we press forward. Every card we place causes my heart rate to spike a little more, but somehow, the cards never falter.

At last, Tris places the last cards, and she breaks into the most brilliant smile. Before it can disappear, I grab my phone from beside me on the floor, swipe the screen to my camera, and aim it at Tris and our tower of cards. Even though she sees me taking the picture, she doesn't shy away. That is a gift in and of itself.

I set my phone down on the table just as she reaches for hers. "Now I get one," she says as she aims her camera at me. I offer her the best smile I can, and she returns it the moment I hear the telltale _click!_ of her camera.

Then, barely a second later, the whole thing collapses in a heap. In the hanging stillness of the moment after, we just stare at the place where it once stood before laughter falls from our lips, filling the space of the room with our happiness.

It's a beautiful moment that just adds to a blissful morning. Once again, I'm reminded of all we've been through in the past twenty-four hours alone: the kisses we shared at her home, meeting her mother, finding out about our history, our fight, the nightmare and the moments after, this morning with the flowers… It makes my head spin a little. It's not to say that I regret anything. What I feel is so much stronger now than I could ever even fathom before. It's not unwelcomed, either, and I doubt anything could puncture the bubble that seems to have swelled up in my chest.

Though, she certainly tests the theory when she asks, "Do you want me to come with you tomorrow?"

 _This is far too easy_ is my first thought. After all, I've been needing to ask her to accompany me to Marcus' funeral for days now, given the odd circumstances my father placed upon me.

"I'll be fine," I say rather evasively, not meaning to test her but not being able to avoid it, either.

She bites her lip uncomfortably. "That's not why I asked." She sighs, her eyes falling to the heap of cards on the table as she gathers her thoughts. She doesn't look up when she speaks, not at first. "Honestly, I can't stand the idea of you having to bear all of that on your own." She runs her thumbnail along a gouge in the coffee table absently, in an attempt to soothe herself. "It makes me sick to my stomach thinking about what that service will be like. I want to be there for you, if you want me to."

I'm answering before I can even think about what I'm saying. "I want to keep you as far away from anyone associated with Marcus as possible."

Her eyes meet mine solemnly, though the corner of her lips twitch feebly. "My father was Marcus' right-hand man for over twenty years. There's not a whole lot closer I could get to all this than that."

The truth should reassure me, but instead, it makes me nauseous, draining every ounce of warmth from my body. She's right, in a way I do not want to accept in any capacity. That puts her as much at risk as I have always been. If anyone ever wanted to get payback for what Marcus Eaton has done, they'd have to settle with what little he has left. Nevermind that I'm the first in line when it comes to people who deserves justice for what was done. I'm his only child, making me the most appealing target. Other than me, it's just Andrew.

With Andrew comes a wife and two children who make perfect bargaining chips, and when it comes to Marcus Eaton, the list of people who would want revenge is probably extensive.

I have always a been a potential target, and apparently, so has she.

"Hey," she soothes, moving from around the coffee table to join me. I don't know what comes over either of us, but before I know it, my right hand is pulling her closer to me, my left grabbing hold of her waist to steady either her or myself, I'm not really sure. And then she's all encompassing, her arms around me as my own secure themselves around her waist.

My heart is protesting some unknown threat that is still familiar, somehow. Every nerve sparks to hold her tighter, cling to her and never let her slip away, not again. Not when I just got her back.

I feel her shift so one hand can drift through my hair. The gesture is comforting, familiar, and something I strongly associate with her. It's enough to stop the panic from consuming me, but not enough to erase the threat.

The idea of Tris being at Marcus' funeral is about as appealing as her walking through the 4400 block of West Monroe Street alone on a Saturday night. In the back of my mind, I'm reminded of her screams as Marcus pulled her arms behind her back or as the nurse whipped her with the belt or the countless other times she was hurt and I had to watch. I know that life is in the past, but it still feels like I'm taking her back to that awful reality we knew; like I'm inviting it to our present by bringing her with me.

A blinding, white-hot wave of hatred floods over me, taking the reins and bringing me to a halt. Marcus was behind all of this. Even if he had no idea Tris and I would reconnect, he knew this would torment me. He knew this would cause me more grief than I wanted to carry. He was already dead! Why did he have to do this? What more does he want from me?

Once again reading my mind, Tris softly comforts me, reminding me, "Marcus has taken so much from you, but the one thing he's always wanted most was power. He reveled in taking that from you, and he wants to do that even now. Marcus didn't care about being grieved or mourned. He cared about maintaining his power. He'd lost his hold on you when you left home. This was his last attempt to take it back."

Tris leans back and pulls away from me, and it's only then that I realize she's straddling my lap. She's so light, I hardly felt her. If I wasn't so caught up in the moment, I might be distracted by the feel of her over me, but all I can truly focus on are her eyes as they stare into mine. They're desperate and intense, the flicker of fear in them agitating the ache in my chest.

She slowly smoothes her hands down, cradling my face to hold my gaze. Something must flicker across my face because her expression tightens almost as if she's in pain. "I don't want to see him succeed," she whispers.

The ache in my chest smarts, and I wince. "But this is what he wants."

I close my eyes, the truth burning its way into the tender spot in my chest, threatening to debilitate me. I don't want to burden her with the truth, with any more of Marcus' monstrous motives, but she deserves the truth.

Her hands slide down to rest on my chest, somehow finding the spot that keeps aching, and the warmth seeping through the fabric of my shirt is the most comforting feeling at the moment. It helps me tell her what she needs to know.

"When we went to meet with Mr. Vega on Monday, he informed me that I was supposed to bring a guest. Well, he didn't exactly phrase it that way, but he prefers a more vile selection of vocabulary that I don't even entertain the thought of." I open my eyes to meet Tris', and she's watching me intently, the pain still in her eyes, but I can tell it's for _me_.

I don't deserve that look, but I don't let it hinder me.

"Marcus felt the need to tell anyone affiliated with the firm that I was, as he put it, 'well attended to,'" I practically spit out, though I try to soften my tone as I continue. "The only woman that I associated with that he knew of was Shauna, and he had specific instructions saying anyone in her or Zeke's family were prohibited from attending. Not that I'd even entertain the idea of bring them to something like this," I finish bitterly, not sure what to say next.

She spares me the need. "I don't think this is exactly what he wants, though. He wanted you to have to find some strange woman and parade her around. He wanted to put you through the trouble of spending the week getting a stranger prepared for the world of Marcus Eaton, Andrew Prior, and Mr. Vega." She hesitates for a moment before she asks, "Is it weird that I don't know his first name?"

It is odd, but then again, "I don't know it, either."

We're quiet for a minute before Tris gets a hard look. Her eyes are cold, reminiscent of last night's argument with her father. They stare unseeing at something over my left shoulder when she speaks next. "They want you out of your element, playing according to their rules. If you bring me, that turns the tables. My father has been pretending not to know anything about your childhood, denying that I even exist, coving up for Marcus, arranging a funeral for the man he claims ruined his life by forcing him to commit unthinkable crimes… He's put me in the position to shoulder that, and I don't think he deserves that right."

She meets my eyes again. Something about her eyes remind me of blue flame, burning hot but looks so cold at the same time. I can just tell by the way she's looking at me that she's already decided, and really, was there any other choice? Especially with this reminder of Andrew's role in all of this, there's no way this wouldn't have happened anyway.

"I'm supposed to meet them this afternoon. Last night on the phone, your father said Mr. Vega wanted me to bring my date. I suspect he knows exactly who you are, and has already started tormenting him over this predicament. If you come in, though…"

"It's like an ultimatum, for my father," she says before I can even find the words, and suddenly, she's smiling.

"That's a good thing?" I ask, both amused and confused.

Tris nods shyly, her smile fading a shade. "Either way, he will have to take what's his, and I'm so ready for us to give it up to him. I'm so tired of all these secrets, Tobias. I'm tired of pretending I haven't just been reunited with my best friend, who I thought was dead for well over a decade. I'm tired of having to keep stories straight and pretend like my family is perfect or that I'm not plagued by what happened to us every day as children."

She lets out a heavy breath before she adds, "Most of all, I'm tired of feeling ashamed for _this_ ," she nods to the two of us, tangled together, and smiles a little. "As far as I'm concerned, I've known you forever. I don't want to hide that. I don't want to hide what we have. We've been forced to keep secrets all our lives, and for something that makes me so happy, I'd like to not keep it a secret. We've carried all of these secrets for long enough. I'm ready for a break."

And suddenly, I'm smiling too. "After that funeral tomorrow, it'll be over. It'll _finally_ be over."

Tris bites her lip before she asks, "Maybe the funeral can be a trial run."

I watch her expression carefully. There's no shame in it, no second guessing or anything of the sort. There's only the nervousness she gets when she thinks she doesn't measure up. The concept of that is laughable, but she doesn't need to hear that. After everything she's been through, it's part of the vast network of scars our pasts have given us.

But maybe, _maybe_ , there's a chance for healing.

Carefully, I tuck a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear, forcing her to look at me. "If you want to wait that long to start that trial, I'll happily wait, but I just want you to know that I'm ready. So, if you are too, I'm all for not wasting any more time. I think seventeen years apart is long enough."

A few tears fall from her eyes, but she's smiling, laughing a little as she watches me. Her thumbs rub circles on my neck, where her hands have come to rest. She has this breathtaking look of awe that has me so at peace, so content, I could live in this moment forever.

"Your eyes light up when you talk like that," she finally says, nothing but a soft, humming murmur in the close space between us.

"Like what?" I press, not really sure what she's seeing, because I'm not sure what I'm feeling.

She bites her lip, her eyes staring into mine in deep consideration, though they're still bright and happy. "I don't know. It reminds me of what I'm feeling, but I'm… I'm not entirely sure what that is."

 _My thoughts exactly._

I lean forward a bit, which seems to invite her in, too, because soon, we've bridged the gap between us. While there's a needy pulse thrumming between us, we keep the kiss gentle and soothing, like steady waves gliding over the beach on a sleepy afternoon.

When we break apart, her lips linger, planting soft kisses along my jaw before she pulls away. "If I tell you I'm ready, what does that mean?"

The first word that comes to mind is 'girlfriend,' which wouldn't be inaccurate, but at the same time, doesn't seem to fully appreciate what she means to me and how far back we go. It feels too ordinary for two people brought back together by extraordinary circumstances.

Maybe it doesn't have to be about a word.

I meet her eyes, hold them seriously as I say, "It means that a week from now, I want to be making weekend plans with you. It means three weeks from now, I want to be standing in some store looking at all the Valentine's crap and wondering what will make you happiest and probably still managing to pick the wrong thing. It means I'll ask you random questions all the time to try and figure out new, creative ways to surprise you. It… Tris…"

My eyes fall away, because the look she has for me is so sweet, so genuinely touched… I wasn't prepared for it, and I have so much more to say.

I take a deep breath, will myself to continue. "It means, when you get sick, I'll wake up in the middle of the night to get you some medicine and soup, and stay with you until you feel better. It means… It means I want to be that person I was for you. I don't ever want you to have to face anything alone again. Not because you can't handle it, but because you shouldn't have to."

I look back up at her and she's looking at me in wonder, though the moment our eyes meet again, she smiles, giggles even. "So, what are we going to tell people?"

A laugh escapes me, too, because that's definitely the hard part.

"Eventually, I'm going to have to come to terms with the term 'girlfriend,' which feels like the biggest trivialization of the century as far as I'm concerned." Tris flushes with surprise, but the megawatt smile that follows only makes it more perfect.

"So, I can say I have a boyfriend?" she asks hopefully, though she gives me a wink, too.

It's impossible not to laugh. "Just don't tell him about me, he might get pissed."

She laughs again, though she definitely rolls her eyes. "So, you know Hana is going to want a story…"

As every mother does, biological or not. "How about a variant of the truth?" I offer, and she frowns at first. "Hear me out," I plead, and she nods, allowing it.

"We could say our parents worked together, so we were around each other a lot growing up. We became best friends until I was about eight. So far, no lie, so we're good," I say with a little laugh, and she gives me a little half smile in return.

"Now, this is where we'd have to be creative. Maybe we could say there was an accident and they weren't sure if I'd make it. During that time, maybe our parents have a falling out, and they kept us from seeing each other. However, due to their work, they didn't sever all ties."

Tris nods, thinking it over for a minute. "Okay, that could work. Anyone that knows Marcus or my dad would believe that. Work was so important to them, and they'd not bat an eyelash at separating two childhood best friends."

I nod and then let out a little laugh. "Hana will love it."

Tris lights up. "Speaking of Hana, we should go see them!" Tris' face falls in horror for a second, looking at me with eyes that rival the size of a bread plate. "Tobias! You haven't seen them since Monday, and she _definitely_ wanted you to come over."

I can feel my ears burning a little. I've been so caught up with discovering what I was feeling with Tris and all of this wedding and funeral chaos, I haven't made time for the only thing left I have as family.

Tris must see the shame in my eyes, because everything about her softens. "Call her, see if we can come for dinner. I'm sure it would make her so happy, especially if it's you who called. And you know Zeke would be thrilled, too. They want to see you happy, and they see you so little…"

She's absolutely right, and I could kiss her for it. "You're amazing, you know that?" I ask her, my face taken over with awe.

She blushes, but smirks and says, "So says you."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "I'll make you believe it one day."

Stubborn as ever, she gives me an, 'Oh really?' look that directs blood away from my brain and somewhere else I have a little less control over. _This girl…_

"You're playing a dangerous game," I warn as she shifts in my lap, because really, I'm losing my grip on reality with every little movement she makes.

She smirks. "Not yet. Call Hana." She gets off my lap and stands all together, returning to her side of the table. "Then maybe I can kick your ass at some poker."

And oh, does she ever. For every round I win, she wins five. By the time we're needing to stop to get ready for the meeting with her father and Mr. Vega, she's beaten me well over twenty times.

"I am but a mere mortal," I say as I bow dramatically before her as she stands and stretches. It makes her giggle, shaking her head at me.

"According to some people, you're the Greek god," she counters airily, flashing a teasing smile.

I groan. "Please tell me that didn't come from you. That comparison is so _old_ , and unoriginal," I sigh out like I'm offended.

She returns my mock offense and raises the ante by dropping her jaw. "Do you think I'd ever be that cliche?"

We both break out in a fit of laughter as we head upstairs to get ready. As we get to the guest bedroom, each of us going to our respected bags, she asks, "So, how formal is this dinner tonight?"

When I called Hana and asked if Tris and I could come over for dinner, I hadn't expected her to pull out all the stoppers for a complete blowout celebration. Tris gave me that look, though, that reminded me how special this must be for Hana. After everything she's done for me, she deserves a chance to revel in something good. Besides, I do miss her quite a bit, and I want to share this with her.

"Whatever you wear to the meeting with your father will be fine. Uriah has only worn dress pants once in his life, and that was for his father's funeral, and Zeke isn't much better. Hana gave up on appearances long ago."

We both take our time getting ready, though we do so separately at first. Then she comes to the bathroom I'm in, knocking on the door frame to get my attention from buttoning up my black long sleeve shirt, asking to help her with the clasp of her necklace.

It's hard not to stare, because she always seems to take my breath away. She's wearing a well fitting long sleeved grey tunic sweater dress with lace stitching trim, black tights, and black leather ankle boots with a sturdy heel. While it's modest, it still accentuates her soft curves, hugging her in all the right places.

When she turns so her back is to me, she carefully pulls her hair up so I have access to her neck and a better view of the clasp. My hands shake a little as I try to work with the little clasp of her necklace, but I eventually succeed, and she thanks me.

As she turns to leave, she must see something with my collar, because she stops and comes to fix it. I love the closeness it brings, the tenderness in her expression as she focuses on the little task, the smell from her perfume as is washes over me in succulent waves. Before she can pull away, I reach out and clasp one of her hands and hold her in front of me. It coaxes a soft smile from her, and she happily stands there with me, lost in the moment.

"I can't seem to take my eyes off of you," I finally admit, lost in her eyes yet again.

Her smile turns into more of a smirk when she replies with, "You're not so bad yourself." I can see her ears burning bright red, though. She doesn't fool me for a second.

"We make a great pair then," I say with a wink, and she's back to grinning just as big as I'm sure I am.

Then she's leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek before she pulls away. "I shouldn't be too much longer," she says as she walks backwards for a second. I'm sure it's to see the look on my face.

"Take your time," I assure her, still feeling the smile she's brought out of me take hold of everything in me.

She only takes about ten more minutes. When I see her next, light touches of makeup make her eyes and lips pop in an even more enticing way, and her hair is up in a twisted, braided updo that really complements her features, especially by exposing more of her slender neck and revealing some of the ravens on her collarbone. My heart swells just at the thought of the raven on her ribcage, one that only I have seen since she's got it done. It's something just for her, for us.

I shake my head as she extends her arms in a, 'What do you think?' manner, before she gives me one little twirl. "You're killing me," I chuckle, and she blushes.

"Now we're even," she says softly, though still louder than I'm sure she means. She shakes her head, like she's trying to dislodge water from her ears, and speaks louder as she says, "I'm ready when you are."

The drive is quick and conversation is light, seeing as we don't discuss any of what's to come. Not yet. We talk happily, teasing each other's speculation on how the Pedrads are going to handle the recent developments between the two of us. It brings about fits of laughter that make me feel lost in Arizona sunshine; bright burning warmth that seeps into your skin, the rays radiating long after it's gone from your sight.

It's because of her. Again and again, I'm reminded of both how special Tris is, and how immensely lucky we are. The fact that we turned out the way we did, found each other the way we did and when we did, and grew so close together in such a small window of time, all illuminates it. I can't believe everything has worked out this way. After the amount of bad luck I've endured in my life, to have something so good feels unlike anything. I have never felt more alive than now.

And yet, reality still creeps right back in the moment I park the car, both of us ready to make our way to the firm our fathers built from the ground up. That place only knows of the image Marcus created for them, though the tales are not spun from an ounce of truth. Still, his colleagues lapped up anything he had to tell them as if it were water and they were stranded in the desert. This is a place that shows us no mercy.

I feel her hand on my shoulder, smoothing soft circles into my skin to ease the tension gathering there. "Tobias," she starts softly, trying to bring me back to her and away from the darkness of Marcus. "Look at me," she pleads, her voice betraying her calm with a hint of worry.

But I do look at her, unable to help myself. The grey in the fabric makes her eyes even more blue than they already seem, and the light eye makeup enhances them even further. It makes it hard for me to hold her eyes, but there have been harder tasks I've conquered, and they were far less rewarding.

"We both know it's going to get ugly in there," she says calmly, like she's talking about the weather. "I don't know how my father will react, but no matter what, we can count on Mr. Vega."

I honestly never really thought about the extent of him being there, though that should have been my first thought. The last few times he's mentioned her, it was vile enough. She wasn't even in the same room, then.

Her eyes flash with terror she's trying to suppress, but I can read it like a book. "We know he's going to say some pretty inflammatory stuff, trying to get a rise out of all of us, but I don't want you to play into his hand. While it'll only bother my father more, I don't want you getting sucked into that. I…" She takes a couple shaky breaths, though her eyes hold mine. "Look, even if he says something that makes me physically sick to my stomach to hear, please, don't offer him the fodder he needs to be sustained further. I can take it. Let's just get through this as quickly as possible, so we can go enjoy the night with your family."

I feel like all the blood has been drained from me, but I nod. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can try to forget it.

I reach over the console and lace my fingers with hers, and she gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. "While I wish you didn't have to be there, at least it'll help me get through this."

She gives me a soft smile, one of understanding and sadness of the reality we face. "I know what you mean." She gives my hands a final squeeze before she nudges me. "Alright. We've got this. Let's just get it over with."

Over with… as if that were ever an option for an Eaton.

 **AN- I have a lot this time for an AN so I'm sorry in advanced for that.**

 **I wasn't anticipating this chapter finishing here, much like 21. This is just part two (maybe part three?) of the original plan I had for this one chapter, but things grew and turned into more than I expected. It's not so bad, though because this keeps me posting on time, so I'm just rolling with it.**

 **Speaking of rolling with things... we're all just gonna roll with the sappy crap whenever it comes up because the next chapter and many chapters in the future are just... yeah. Especially this next one. It's going to be... Well, like Mr. Vega. So enjoy the fluff or whatever you kids call it these days (says the 20-somethin'-year old lol). But yeeeaaaaah take it while you can before the mean writer lady comes out and ruins everything.**

 **As for the next chapter, I wanted to open this up to you all, seeing as I haven't started actually writing chapter 23- We all know Mr. Vega is a piece of work, and I've tried to dig into him a bit to draw out some of his awfulness, but I'm curious what aspects you'd all like to see? Is there something truly awful about him you think is just lurking in the shadows? I'd love to expand on him even more, if you have a perspective. Just let me know your thoughts, either with a review if you want to leave one, or in a private message.**

 **Once again, thank you all for the amazing feedback. I am so happy to hear all the beautiful words you shared over the last chapter. It was such a surprise even for me writing it, I'm glad you all enjoyed it. I hope the little light moments are just as sweet in this chapter. I'm hoping to stay on time with the updates, seeing as I'm down to my last two weeks of intensity. So, fingers crossed!**

 **-Willow**


	23. Chapter 23

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters belong to Veronica Roth, and any brands or specific products named are not mine, either._

 _In addition, all thoughts, views, opinions, etc expressed by any particular character *cough* Mr. Vega *cough* does NOT reflect my own thoughts, views, opinions, etc. Further, I do not encourage or even condone the inflammatory language used in this chapter._

 _Rated M for language, and mature content_

Chapter Twenty-Three

The wait in the small lobby of the law office is agony. Tris sits beside me on a plain navy sofa, my left hand held between both of hers. The hand on top rubs soothing circles over my skin, which keeps the anxiety at bay. Everything about this meeting feels like a bad idea. The details, having Tris here, agreeing to the terms… I want to grab Tris by the hand and run far from this place, but I know there's no real escape. Not when Marcus' funeral is tomorrow.

Just as I'm starting to think I might go crazy from the weight of the situation, the familiar calculated voice of Mr. Vega infests the air. "Mr. Eaton," he says almost gleefully.

Tris gives my hand a squeeze before we stand and turn to face Mr. Vega. His eyes are flashing with the unscrupulous plans he's bound to have envisioned, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. Mr. Vega is always a threat. All my instincts scream of it.

"Ah, what a nice surprise! Looks like you came to give me a close up private show of your little arm candy, and she certainly is a prize piece. You have your father's eye." He gives me a grin before he reaches for Tris' hand. "I might just have to steal her away from you," he says as he openly looks her up and down.

I don't even have a chance to react to the fucker because Tris is on top of it, purposely moving her hand away from his as if repulsed by the mere prospect. _Not far from the truth_. Her eyes are sharp and unamused. " _'She'_ is standing right in front of you, and _'she'_ has a name," she says resolutely.

Vega chuckles as if she's joking around before he looks at me and asks, "Quite the ballbreaker you got there. Do you always let her run her mouth this way? Seems like it'd be better spent working on something other than her pride."

My hands have been clenched into fists before I can even think, but Vega turns back to Tris before I can even fit in a word and asks, "What _does_ he call you, Crumpet?"

Tris stands her ground, staring deep into his eyes. "You seem to be operating under the illusion that Tobias and I are here for a social call, as opposed to the formal meeting arranged at this time with Mr. Prior."

Vega grins again. "Already acquainted with Andrew, are you? Quite the courtesan you are."

Fury is pumping through my veins, but I force myself to bite my tongue. Tris wasn't kidding about him trying to engage us in a shit storm. I'd venture as far as to say he's compelled to strike for a nerve, always aiming for the Achilles heel. I'm certain we were correct in assuming Vega knows precisely who Tris is, but I fear, now, that he's using the possibility of ignorance to his advantage.

Neither of us are willing to state the fact plainly, though. Tris wants to see what her father will do. He's been skirting around the truth for years now, hiding information, keeping secrets, and playing games. We both want to see what he does when truth comes knocking, and there's no place to hide.

It must be clear that even Vega is pushing his luck because he just chuckles again before leading us back to Andrew's office. Even in just the few days since I've seen him last, he looks more exhausted than ever before. The pale grey of his dress shirt does nothing but amplify the bags under his eyes. I'd feel sorry for him, but I'm reminded again of how much has happened to Tris because of his choices. He is reaping what he sews.

Once Tris and I enter, Andrew looks up and immediately locks eyes with his daughter. Tris keeps a cool expression, not allowing any hint of recognition to betray her features. Andrew, on the other hand, loses any color left in his face. He remains seated in his large leather chair, eyes wide from being blindsided. _How does it feel, Andrew?_

I glance behind me as Mr. Vega enters after me, and he's grinning at the sight of Andrew's horrified face, and I can see it fueling him. "Ah, Andrew, we are in for a treat tonight. This delectable little tart Mr. Eaton brought in with him today is the very same I saw pacing my sitting room on Monday. She's a sweet little minx, isn't she? I told you she was. In fact, I was just telling Tobias, here, that he'll have to keep a close eye the girl himself, or else I might pluck her right out from under his nose."

He chuckles darkly, making my stomach churn worse. Andrew's hands tremble, just for a second, but enough that I see it. _What did you expect to happen, Andrew?_

Mr. Vega turns more to me and continues, "But I'm not one for sharing, so make sure you're done with her before you pass her on."

I want to kill him. I want to grab him by his shoulders and slam his face first into Andrew's desk until he can't open his filthy trap again. I want my fist to find comfort in the impact against his flesh, in bruising and breaking him. I want the taste of those filthy words on his tongue more potent than that of his blood before I force them down his throat like poison.

It's the feel of Tris taking my hand that keeps me steady; keeps me from acting.

The silence stretches as Andrew seems to have gone deaf, not registering a single word as he takes in the sight of his daughter, now holding hands with the son of his deranged, former partner. If I were him in this position, I'm not sure I'd be in much of a different state. Just seeing her here, not knowing she'd be here, and with me, no less, has to be a shock to his system. I wonder if he even realizes she was with me all day and last night.

 _That'd probably give him a heart attack._

"Seems Andrew likes what he sees," Vega chuckles.

That seems to snap Andrew out of it. "That's enough," he snaps at Vega more like Marcus than I've ever heard, it's almost eerie. It takes him a second to regain his composure, but when he does, he takes a deep, steadying breath before turning back to us.

The sight of his daughter doesn't seem to help as he practically wilts under her gaze. _Don't fail her again, Prior..._

He clears his throat and begins, "Well, why don't we get started, shall we?" He gestures to the two chairs in front of his desk, but I won't budge, and I squeeze Tris' hand to stay her, too.

At the gesture, Andrew gives me a weary look that I respond to with, "If I'm not mistaken, introductions are in order."

If possible, he pales more than before. I can already see what his choice will be, as any ounce of warmth left in his eyes flickers out. His eyes flick to his daughter's, void of anything but recognition, before he looks away. _Coward_.

"Forgive me," he muttered under his breath before taking a steadying breath. He collects himself in a moment, straightening his posture and adjusting himself back into Marcus' right hand man.

When he looks back to Tris, I'm astonished to see him regarding her like he would any other client. "As I'm sure you've deduced, I'm Andrew Prior." He offers a hand out to Tris to shake, but to everyone's surprise, and to my utter delight, she refuses to accept the gesture.

She adjusts herself, too, sitting down in one of the chairs with a straight back, and keeping herself closed off to him. I settle into the seat beside her as she stares him straight in the eyes, daring him to look away. "You may call me Ms. Wright, Mr. Prior," she says coolly, not looking away for a second.

This throws him completely. There's a flicker of hurt in his eyes, and I can feel what it does to Tris from beside me. As angry as she may be, I don't thinks she wants to actually hurt him. At the same time, he has taken advantage of the love his daughter has for him. He has put her through hell as if that was her responsibility. He's taken so much from her, and he won't stop. The pain he feels is a loss of power. That is not something to feel guilty over, and to my relief, I don't think she does.

I catch Mr. Vega's satisfied smile, confirming that he does know who Tris is. It does very little to comfort me, but at least now we know.

After a moment to compose himself again, Andrew gives a curt nod of defeat. "Right… Well, thank you for making time to come in today, _Ms. Wright_. I expect Tobias explained to you the nature of this meeting?"

I don't think she does it on purpose, but the moment her father mentions my name, her shoulders relax, her posture eases into a more comfortable position, and her eyes warm considerably. I'm not even sure she's aware of it at all.

I can see her hands trembling a bit, and I want desperately to grasp them to calm her. I stop myself, though, because I know that now isn't the time for that. Not when we have Mr. Vega quiet for the time being. If he starts up again, we may never get out of here. "Marcus Eaton's funeral is tomorrow morning, and seeing as I'm accompanying him, I expect this is where I am thoroughly vetted by you, Mr. Prior."

Andrew winces a bit at the word choice, but he can't deny it. "We want to prepare you for what is expected of you. Marcus Eaton was a particular man, so he left extensive instructions, especially in regards to this aspect of the funeral." He sighs, pulling out a piece of paper. "Do you prefer to start anywhere in particular, or shall I just proceed down the list?"

Tris cocks her head to the side, clearly her mind whirling. "You pick," she says pointedly. There's a little sense of a challenge, but it feels like something personal between the two that I've not become aware of yet.

He frowns for a second before he sighs out. He puts on a pair of reading glasses and looks down at the piece of paper. "The first point isn't quite relevant to this meeting, but I'll make you aware. It pertained to who is not to be in attendance, and seeing as you are not a Lynn or Shauna Salazar, we're all set there."

I'm struck with another wave of irritation. The fact that Marcus would go out of his way to name out Shauna _and_ Lynn just sickens me. I want nothing more than to erase the man from my life in any way that I can. He can go rot in hell, as far as I'm concerned.

"The second point pertains to the greetings. Both of you are expected to greet the guests as they enter the main hall. Hand shakes and simple greetings only. You can talk to them more after the service." _Yeah, right. As if I'm not blowing out of there the first second I can._

"The next pertains to attire. Tobias, your father-"

"Marcus. Call him by his name, because that's all he was to me."

It's a stupid, baiting move that I wouldn't have done if I was actually thinking. To my surprise, though, nobody seems to take the bait. Even Tris, who I expected to be at least a little upset that I didn't hold it together, seems more angry at her father for bringing this up.

My heart swells again for this woman. I've never seen someone protective of me like she is. Like I'm worth fighting for.

"I'm sorry," Andrew says, though it's not that genuine. " _Marcus_ arranged for everything you need be left in the front closet at the house. You'll find it there. I had Mr. Vega take it there myself last Friday. The only thing you'll need are the shoes." He shifts a little, clearly uncomfortable with the next part. "As for you, uh, _Ms. Wright_ , Mr. Eaton lists some… specific details."

She raises an eyebrow. "Such as?"

He's _definitely_ out of his element. "I… I'm not really comfortable-"

"Well, I am," Mr. Vega interrupts as he moves behind Andrew's desk and plucks the paper from his hands. I know for a fact that he knows exactly what that paper says, but his behavior speaks otherwise as he pretends to scrutinize every single word. "It says here, 'The girl's dress has to be modest. It should go past her knees, but hug all the assets. Makes them all use their imagination, but give them something to work with. Her hair must be up so that her neck is exposed to show any blemishes _that I expect to be there._ '"

The end of the last sentence is so emphasized, my hands are already shaking. How dare he-

"Unfortunately for Mr. Eaton, I have _prior_ engagements that same day and am required to be unblemished." Tris looks directly into Vega's eyes, hers alight with that electricity I love so much. "As a supposedly respectable man, Mr. Eaton would surely understand the place for tact," she says pointedly.

Even Vega seemed to be affected by her to a degree, judging by the look on his face, but he still doesn't miss a beat. "Well then, I'm sure that is a point he could settle on, Ms. Wright, so long as you follow through the the rest of his demands." There's something about the way he's looking at the two of us that doesn't sit well with me, leaving me dreading what's to come. "Will that be a problem?"

He's looking at her like a child, and I can see the anger it sparks within her. She never lets it go, even if she does end up biting it back a little. She doesn't even give him an answer, though that seems to be answer enough for Mr. Vega.

He returns his gaze to the paper in hand, finding his place before continuing with a smile. "' For jewelry, real pearls, necklace and earrings. No accessories in her hair or on her wrists, and no other rings other than the ring I've provided for my son. He-'"

"What ring?" I don't ask Vega, but Andrew, because the motherfucker owes Tris and I both an explanation if he had _any_ idea about any of this and didn't tell us.

Andrew, however, truly is a coward and won't even look us in the eye, let alone acknowledge the words that come out of Vega's mouth. "You father thinks you're much too old to be a bachelor. It would reflect badly on him if his only son wasn't doing his duty in securing a wife. For the purpose of tomorrow, she is to be your fiancée."

I can feel Tris taking my hand before I'm aware of how tense I've become. The rage I feel is practically radiating enough for Andrew to feel from across the desk. While her gesture comforts me, it doesn't take away the audacity of this whole arrangement. It doesn't take away how completely violating it feels to be paraded around like a show animal. It doesn't lessen the fury I feel that Tris is being dragged through this.

"As his fiancée," he carries on, only referencing the paper for what information he needs, "the woman has a series of duties expected of her." Tris is still holding my hand, so I can feel the tension rising within her even further than before. The fact that he won't even address her _when she's in the same fucking room_ has us both round up tight.

This certainly hasn't been easy for her, and now, it seems, Mr. Vega is raising the stakes. He finally turns to her, addressing her purposefully. "Seeing as you will be considered an Eaton wife in training, you're expected to meet those standards. You'll be expected to stand by Tobias' side at all times and maintain your silence throughout, only speaking when spoken to. The only time you're to be apart from him is to fulfill your duties in the kitchen with the other women."

Anger boils over, out of my control. "What a load of horseshit, considering no one has ever met Marcus' wife," I spit. I don't even know my mother's first name, only that she was married to Marcus, and that she was gone long before I could even form memories of her.

"Why do you think that's the case, boy?" Vega laughs. "The old bag didn't know how to listen to her husband. She wanted to get in the way of how your father wanted to raise you, and your father wouldn't stand for it. It wasn't for nothing, though, because it looks like he made the right choice. His hard work paid off."

It's not me who snaps. If it had been, Vega's face would be a myriad of reds, purples, and blues before I'd be finished with it. He'd not have a bone in his face intact if _I_ was the one to lose control.

When _Tris_ loses control, it's like a tornado touching down. Just the moment before, she was the dead air, still and waiting. The next, she's whirling power, enough to take down anything in her path and cause mass destruction, only to fade away as if she never was, leaving only the destruction as evidence.

In much the same way, she's out of her chair and around the desk, her hands smacking into Mr. Vega's chest. She musters up enough strength to push him back into the wall, hard enough to wipe the smug look off his face. Even though, physically, she's petite and probably half the body mass of Mr. Vega, her entire presence is towering and powerful.

I see Andrew stand, reaching to pull his daughter away, but I snap, "Don't you touch her, Prior." He has absolutely no right to lay his hands on her, after everything he's done or allowed to transpire.

Andrew practically collapses back into his chair in defeat.

The whole thing only feeds her fury as she hones her attention in solely on Mr. Vega. Right now, he is the outlet for her rage. "Let me make something perfectly clear to you. You can call me every derogatory name in the book. You can imply that I'm some streetwalker who's been acquainted with any man who can keep at half-mast long enough to finish. You can say any goddamn thing you want about me, and I couldn't care less.

"But that man?" She turns and points to me, though she doesn't meet my eyes. If she did, she'd see my eyes twice their usual size as I take in this mind-boggling woman. She is so fierce, so powerful, it's enchanting, and I can't look away. "That man is has more decency, more humanity, more worth in one pinky finger than you and Marcus _combined_. I will not sit back and listen to you besmirch his name with the _filth_ that was Marcus Eaton. Tobias is so much better than that. He is _everything_ Marcus was not."

The energy in the room is palpable, alive with a humming intensity that gives me goosebumps. I'm astounded by everything that just transpired, but still in complete awe. Even after she pulls herself out of it, calming and collecting herself, there's a power in the way she pushes away from Vega, leaving him pressed against the wall as she makes her way back to sit beside me. Her cheeks are flushed, but it only breathes more life about her.

Once Mr. Vega collects himself as well, he just smiles for a moment, seemingly enjoying the aftermath. It's unnerving, leaving me feeling more vulnerable than I'd care to admit. I turn to Andrew, hoping the man will step up and be the man, the father that Tris deserves. "Is there anything else or are we free to leave?"

Andrew's gaze never moves, as if everything that makes him Andrew Prior is gone. He just continues to stare down at his desk, his face void of any emotion.

"Just a few more points," Mr. Vega sneers. I can't help but feel a little defeated with having to stay, sitting back and listening to this continue as if it doesn't bother me on every level. "First, Tobias, it is expected that you stay until all those who come to pay their respects has left. As for the woman, she stays until she is dismissed from her duties."

"Like shit," I spit at him furiously. "She stays with me, so when I leave, she leaves."

Mr. Vega chuckles. "You can do whatever you'd like, Mr. Eaton, but according to the contract you signed, it has been made perfectly clear that if you don't follow your father's orders for this funeral, all agreements are left null and void. So, the choice is yours. Please, by all means, take the girl home before she's done her duty. Enjoy what happens."

 _Fuck_. That contract ensures that, after this funeral, anything connected to Marcus has no longer has any part in my life going forward. It took years of fighting hard to get that much, and even then it wasn't the whole package I wanted, seeing as it kept me tied to him this long. Still, what I've won is too valuable to squander. As much as it kills me to put Tris and myself through this, _especially_ Tris, it's worth the price of freedom.

Tris must understand this for herself, because I feel her hand squeeze mine again. I hadn't realized she turned to look at me, but the moment her blue eyes hold mine, I'm overwhelmed with a sense of calm. _As long as she's there_ …

"It's okay, Tobias." Then she drops her voice so only I can hear and whispers, "If it means you're free, I'll do anything."

 _How do I even deserve her?_

I squeeze her hand back, the conflict within me revealing itself in my eyes, I can just see it when she looks at me.

"And finally," Mr. Vega cuts in, continuing as if I never interrupted, "I want to reiterate one last note. Should you or that woman there cause a scene, break one of the instructions given to you, or in any way undermine the goal of this event, Mr. Prior and I are at the liberty of taking any such action as a breach in the agreement, rendering it void." He gives me a satisfied smile and he passes me a paper covered in Marcus' scrawl. "It's up to you if you follow it," he adds smugly.

Begrudgingly, I take the paper in hand. Tris and I stand before Vega can think of anything else. I take Tris' hand again before we leave the room, more to keep myself grounded than anything. Tris keeps hold of it, even as we're carried out of hte office, down the hall, out of the lobby, and enter the elevator.

The moment the door shuts, however, panic swallows me whole. _I hate it in here_... My hand slips from hers as I can feel every muscle tense, even as I squeeze my eyes closed, willing to forget that I'm in here.

"Tobias?" Her voice is sharp with concern. I can barely register it. Her hands are on me… rubbing circles on my back with her palm and on the back of my clenched fist with her thumb. "Tobias, can you look at me?"

I give her a tense shake of my head, the room so close to closing in already-

" _Shit_ , I forgot," I hear her hiss out under her breath. She speaks up with more clarity when she tells me, "Just two more floors, baby, and then we're out. Just two more floors and you never have to come back here. You never have to see this place again or ride in the stupid elevator ever again."

Surprisingly, the reminder helps. It gets me through until I hear the telltale ring of the bell indicating we've reached the ground floor. I don't even have my eyes open yet before Tris is guiding me out of the elevator, and it's not until the cool, crisp air hits me in the face that I truly focus back on my surroundings. Tris doesn't make any big deal of it, though, only walking on with her arm looped with mine.

When we reach the car, she moves to climb in, but I steal her hand in mine again, pulling her to face me. I don't know if I have the words right now to thank her...to express to her how much it means to me that she stood up for me. She fought for me _again_ , and it didn't even seem to cause her second thought.

Her bright blue eyes find mine, full of something soft and comforting. Some of her hair has found it's way in her face, so I tuck it behind her ear. Without thinking, I press my lips to her forehead, hold her there for a moment as I just feel her with me. Her smell is familiar and comforting, now, lulling me into a sense of calm once more.

When I pull away, I smile at her with all I have, which isn't very much right now. "Thank you," I say, because I need her to hear it.

She smiles brightly back at me. "Anything for you."

Somehow, some part of Zeke must possess me, because I find myself smirking and asking, " _Anything?_ " before I can even think better of it.

Thank God she laughs. "Hm, I don't know, if you ask nicely…" While her voice trails off, I know it's not because there's nothing for her to say. Why else would she be as flushed with color as the evening sky as the sun makes its descent below the horizon? Why else would her eyes dart everywhere but to meet mine? Why else would she wrinkle up her nose and bite her lip like she's nervous?

Of course there's something to say. She's just too damned shy to say it.

 _Would I be any better?_

I clear my throat, sparing her needing to say any more. "As much as I'd love to talk about this for the rest of our evening, I think Hana will kill me if I bail."

Tris smiles sweetly at me, a little relieved I diverted the conversation. She's a dauntless woman, no doubt about it, but that doesn't make her reckless. She has a sharp mind, and a heart that always seems to point to the right direction. She's take her risks, but not haphazardly. She likes to be sure.

"Yeah, let's not upset Hana," she says with a light laugh.

I open her car door for her before she can object and she gives me a look of, _'Really?'_ that makes me chuckle, because it's light enough to be a tease. "Oh, hush, I was already standing right here. It was no trouble," I get out as I laugh again. Thankfully, she settles in without a fight, confirming she's just giving me a hard time.

I go around the back of the car and climb in, too, buckling up and starting up the engine. "Did you need to make any stops before we go?" I ask.

She thinks for a moment before she seems to remember something. "Actually, yes. Could we stop at my house? My father won't be home for hours, so we won't see him at all. My mom may be home… but really, I just need to get my dress for tomorrow. If she's there, I'll just fill her in on where I'm staying." She must see my look of horror, because she smirks. "Don't worry, she's fine with it. I'm not going to tell her that I'm _sleeping_ with you."

She… didn't think that word choice through very well...

... and the way her face goes scarlet tells me she's catching on with that, too.

Once again, I find myself compelled, not to run from the opportunity, but to seize it. With a raised eyebrow, I ask her, "Hm, got plans for me that I didn't know about, Six?"

She tries to hold back her laughter. She really does, but then she can't seem to hold back this subtle little snort of laughter and loses it. She breaks out into absolute belly laughter, fed by nervous energy and the release of tension from one hell of a meeting. It pulls me in so quickly, we're a mess of teary eyes, red faces, and sore stomachs before long.

We sit back against the seats for a minute, trying to catch our breath and compose ourselves. It feels like an enormous weight has been lifted off my chest, and with Tris sitting beside me, I feel light as air.

When I feel her eyes on me, I turn to meet them. They're sparkling with happiness and residual moisture from laughing so hard. "Thank you for that," she says sweetly, looking at _me_ like I'm something worth remembering.

 _She hasn't forgotten me yet…_

I want to kiss her, but I know now isn't the best timing. There's more than enough time for kisses, and right now, I want more than that for her. I want memories, _good_ memories. For her, for me, for us. The list of bad memories is too extensive, and these few blissful days are too good to take for granted.

I'm not certain about much, but I'm certain about tonight, and there's no way I'm wasting it.

 **AN: This was a hard chapter to write, but important for setting the stage for what's to come. We're so close to the funeral, then the rehearsal dinner! I hope you all are ready for some surprises! Also, just in case you all didn't know the connection, Wright was Natalie's maiden name, so that's the last name Tris used.**

 **Thank you all for your patience for this chapter, and as always, thank you for the amazing reviews! Your input is such a gift.**

 **-Willow**


	24. Chapter 24

**Remember Me**

 _Disclaimer: Divergent and its characters belong to Veronica Roth, and any brands or specific products named are not mine, either._

 _Rated M for language and mature content._

Chapter Twenty-Four

When we get to Tris' house, I elect to just wait in the car, seeing as she just needs to grab her outfit for tomorrow. What would have taken five minutes turns into twenty, so I figure out pretty quickly that her mother must be home.

Eventually, she comes back down the front steps with a black garment bag thrown over her shoulder and a small cloth sack in her left hand. She deposits them both into the back before climbing back in the passenger seat.

"My mom was home," she confirms as I start heading up Lincoln Avenue. "She just wanted to know what was going on." She hesitates to continue, as if unsure now is the time, but I don't stop her. If she wants to talk now, I'll let her. Otherwise, I will wait. After how heavy today was, I'm not asking anything from her. She's given more than she should ever even need to.

After a minute, she seems to decide to get it over with. "I told her about the meeting. She's pretty horrified with my father. She told me she was going to talk to him… but that it's probably best just to go with it. She let me borrow her pearl jewelry, though, so that's one less thing to worry about."

My insides twist at the thought of all the specifications Marcus demanded upon. I hate this. _All_ of it.

Tris sets a hand gently on my arm, pulling me from my thoughts before they can swallow me whole. "It's going to be okay. You've got me, remember?" She throws in a wink for good measure, which makes me laugh.

When she tries to move her hand back to her lap, my hand quickly finds it, holding it securely so I can bring it to my lips. I leave a soft kiss on the back before I release her, driving on as if nothing happened.

Still, I don't miss the smile that lights up her face because of it.

We're quiet for a minute before Tris asks, "How long do you think it'll take them to figure us out?"

I can't help but grin. "Well, Hana is pretty sharp. She always seems to see right through me. Zeke can be the same, depending on the day. If he's got his wits about him, we're in for an interesting night."

Her laughter is like a drug to me, making me feel like I'm being filled up with enough helium that I'd be drifting to the sky if I weren't tethered by the seat belt.

More to distract myself than anything, I continue, "Shauna is pretty observant, too. I'm sure it'll take all of one look and she'll know."

"Those damn best friends," Tris jokes, and I glance over in time to see her bright, teasing smile.

It's my turn to laugh. "It's like they _care_ or something."

"I know! How dare they."

We get lost in our laughter, which feels so good after not just the events of today, but the past few days. There's been so much heavy darkness, these bright, light moments are like mana from the heavens.

"So, are we making them sweat and pretending like nothing is changed?" she asks a little timidly. I'm finally able to recognize the little flicker of insecurity that still exists in her, that surely doubts how I feel and how much she means to me.

I don't let the realization reflect on my face, though. "I say we just live in the moment and see how long it takes for them to say something. Then when they bring it up, we can just shrug and say, 'What, didn't you know?'"

She busts out laughing again, thrown off guard. "I may not know them very well, but I can already see the looks on their faces," she gets out between laughs.

Oh, that is going to be one of the best memories of my life. I can already feel it.

"They may never let me live it down, either."

After a few more minutes of driving, we turn onto Barry Street. "We're almost there," I tell Tris. "They live in a duplex right across from Hamlin Park." Another turn onto Hoyne Avenue, and I see Zeke's beat up gold Camry parked out front.

Once we're parked, I meet Tris up on the sidewalk and take her hand as we go up the stairs to the left door. I barely get to knock when it flies open, revealing a beaming Zeke. "Look what the cat dragged in!" he booms happily. He steps back, letting us inside to the heavenly scent of Hana's cooking.

Zeke closes the door behind us just as Shauna makes it over to us from her seat on the couch, where Uriah follows closely. Shauna gives us each a hug, even though she's only met Tris once, while Uriah takes our coats to put away.

"It's so good to see you again, Tris," Shauna says as she pulls away.

Tris smiles brightly, genuinely, and replies, "It's good to see you again, too. I'm glad I get to be here."

"She says that now, and she hasn't even had cake," Zeke says smugly.

My jaw drops. "She didn't!"

As if on cue, Hana rounds the corner with a mischievous smirk. "I didn't what?"

Zeke grins. "Tris hasn't had a taste of dessert and she's already singin' her praises."

Hana lights up. "Oh, you're too kind. It's good to see you again," She adds as she pulls Tris into a hug. _I hope she doesn't mind all these hugs…_

We share some polite talk, mainly to let Tris acclimate back into the dynamic. If any group of people will make you feel like they've known you for life, it's this one. I know it'll take no time at all because they're fighting me for more time with her.

When Uriah returns, though, it seems to have clicked. Any tension or uncertainty evaporates.

"Dinner is just about finished. Zeke, help with the beverages?" Hana asks before disappearing around the corner of the kitchen again.

Before long, we're all seated together, settling in for a feast of chicken stew and dumplings. It was the very first meal of Hana's I had ever had, and something about that meal made it feel like family. I'm not sure if she remembers it, but she certainly knows it's one of my favorites.

"So, how has all the wedding planning been going?" Hana asks Tris after a sip of water.

Tris gives me a quick look that wouldn't mean anything to anyone else, reminding me of all the other day at her house where did more than just work on wedding preparations.

"It's certainly kept me busy. There's been something almost every day. Tobias came and helped me yesterday because I was drowning in lilacs," she finishes with a light laugh.

Once again, all eyes are on me in disbelief. "Tobias… and lilacs?" Zeke says incredulously.

"Fake lilacs," I say nonchalantly, pretending like it's just another day of my usual life.

Shauna raises an eyebrow, amusement loud in her eyes, but no one comments. _Oh, this is going to be good._

"They're for the decorations," Tris supplies smoothly. I can see the humor plainly on her face, but neither of us will be the first to say it. This is too fun of a game.

"How nice of you," Hana says to me. "I'm glad you have something nice to be doing every day."

Zeke snorts around a dumpling, spewing gravy onto the table. Both Hana and I shoot him a look, though for completely different reasons. _I know what that dirty mind was thinking._

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"Hmph," is all he gets from Hana.

"You said the wedding was this Saturday? We're coming to help, right?" Uriah asks, joining in the conversation.

"Oh! That's right, yes! If you can, we could definitely use all the extra hands we can get." Tris explains the plan for the wedding this weekend, but I lose focus on what she's saying, distracted by the _way_ she says it, and the way the people around the table take her in.

So much of Tris is vibrant and gripping. It feels like, once she's a part of you, you'll never be able to rid yourself of the traces she leaves behind.

"When were you going to tell us you were _in_ the wedding?!" Shauna's voice breaks through, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Uh…" It takes me a second to catch up, to connect the dots. I glance over at Tris. Her nervous expression makes everything click, and suddenly, the words fly out of my mouth as if keeping them in were a crime. "Probably around the same time I was going to tell you that I have a girlfriend."

Four seconds. That's how long it takes for my response to sink in. _Really_ sink in. Then Hana lets out an audible gasp, and the world breaks into chaos.

"You're shitting me!" One look at my face confirms it for Zeke, and he claps his hands together and lets out a whoop.

"Why didn't you tell us?! Whatever happened to being your best friends?" Shauna asks accusingly, but the smile on her face is all happiness.

It's Uriah that brings Tris into the spotlight, though. "You must be really special to get this asshole to open up in a matter of days. How'd you do it?" There's a sense of wonder in his voice, as if I'm that much of a pain in the ass to deal with. _Maybe I am?_

"Oh, Uriah, leave him alone. Besides, we already knew she was special." Hana gives Tris a warm, motherly smile, one that's so welcoming, any tension Tris may have been harboring is erased. "I would love to hear how it happened, though," she prompts, looking between the two of us hopefully.

"Yeah, you got to spill it. How'd you pull it off?" Zeke says through a mouthful of dumpling.

I turn to look at Tris, and I get the full effect of her; cheeks flushed with happiness, eyes bright and sparkling with amusement. She looks so content, so fulfilled, reflecting how I feel. I could live in this moment, with these people, for the rest of my life.

Her eyes meet mine after a second, and she gives me a sweet smile before she takes the reins. "It turns out we didn't actually _meet_ at the airport, but rather, uh… Well, reunited."

Four sets of eyebrows go up to accompany wide eyes and confused expressions. I wipe my mouth with my napkin before joining in. "We didn't remember right away, but we, uh… we realized we were friends as kids."

"Our fathers worked together," Tris clarifies. "They started off almost as friends, and that's how we met. Eventually, they had a falling out, so we hadn't seen each since we were kids." Tris pauses, her face betraying her in revealing her discomfort with the truth that she's left out.

"Once I realized who her father was, it all came together." Not exactly the truth, but not a lie either. Just enough to distract them from the painful truth just begging to be dug up.

I see Zeke shaking his head, amazed, and Shauna's eyebrows may never come down from her hairline. It's Uriah that says, "Damn! And then you show up at the same airport for the same flight?"

I nod, taking a bite and chewing thoroughly before answering further. "What's more, we're maybe thirty minutes from each other back in Arizona, too."

Hana lets out a small, "Wow," before she shakes her head and adds, "What are the odds of that?"

"Pretty astronomical," Tris says with a laugh, and everyone joins her.

"So, you two remembered each other, but how did you guys get together?" Shauna presses. "I mean, Monday afternoon, you two were just two acquaintances. What'd we miss?"

 _Oh, if only you knew the half of it, Shauna._

Tris turns to me, looking at me with a thoughtful, unsure gaze. Her lip is helplessly trapped between her teeth again, and I just want to pull it free. She doesn't give me a chance because she whispers, "I'm going to quote an Atreyu song. I can't help it." She turns back to the rest of the table and says, "'It started with a kiss and turned to something else.'"

There's a mix of laughter, surprise, and downright shock. "Tobias kissed you?" Zeke asks incredulously. "Like, _he_ kissed _you_?"

Tris giggles, but nods. "And even before he realized who I was."

Zeke and Shauna both look at her like she's sprouted a second head. "And when was this?"

Tris has no reason to hesitate. "Monday afternoon."

Zeke about falls out of his chair in laughter. "You son of a bitch! Just that morning you said-"

"I know what I said," I get out, but it does nothing to stop him.

"And what was that? That you weren't interested in anyone, right?" Zeke smirks, knowing I can't get out of this one. "C'mon, admit it."

I can feel my face on fire, but I fess up. "Fine. I was, in fact, _very_ interested in someone, but there was no way in hell I was going to tell you that, when you're about as subtle as a bull in a china shop."

My friends all bust out in loud laughter, and even I chuckle a little. I turn to look at Tris, worried about what she thinks. I shouldn't be, though, because her smile is big and genuine.

We all chat easily as we finish our meal before Hana brings out her famous chocolate cake. "Oh, Tris, are you in for a treat," Shauna says as she looks longingly at the chocolatey goodness.

"Oh, yeah, bring on the food-gasm," Uriah says eagerly.

Tris snorts out a laugh as Hana screeches, " _Uriah!_ " The look she gives him is scorching, but his sheepish expression softens it almost as quickly.

"Mom, it's a compliment!" Zeke tries to reassure her cheekily. He drops it, though, when the look is directed at him.

Tris is still trying to bite back her laughter when I lean in to her and whisper, "They're not exaggerating, either." She grins broadly at me, only to turn away a moment later as Hana places a giant piece of cake in front of her. I expect her to dig right in, but she waits until everyone has a piece in front of them before even picking up her fork.

" _Oh my God_ ," she moans out softly, her eyes closing slowly as she eats.

Zeke and Uriah get a kick out of that, and Shauna just says, "Told ya."

We eat our cake as we talk, Zeke and Uriah fitting in a joke every chance they get. When we're all finished, they take care of all the dishes while Shauna, Tris, and I continue to chat with Hana.

It doesn't take them long to get everything cleaned up. "Alright, my friends, this night is only just beginning," Zeke says as he comes from the kitchen. He's holding something behind his back with a smug ass expression plastered on his face. "Who's ready for a little living?"

Uriah comes up behind him, whooping excitedly, and Shauna cheers loudly. Hana takes it as her cue to get up. "You all have a good time. Tobias, Tris, I am so glad you were able to come for dinner." She gives us each a hug. "I'm going to head up to my room. I've got myself an early morning. If you get a chance before your flight home to make a last stop by, I'd love to see you both again," she says with a smile. "Both of you, don't be strangers."

"We won't," Tris promises, giving Hana a smile, then turning to share it with me.

 _I love the sound of that._

Once Hana makes it upstairs, we turn back to Zeke. "So, what did you have in mind?" I ask him.

The smug look intensifies. "Well, on Monday, Tris mentioned you loosened up quite a bit with the help of some tequila. I figured it was best to change it up." And sure enough, the asshole pulls out a giant bottle of Fireball. "How about with a game of 'Never Have I Ever' or something?"

"Shit I love that game!" Uriah yells as he runs for the kitchen. "I'll get the glasses!"

I'm not one-hundred percent against it, considering the week we've had, but I don't want to put Tris in an uncomfortable position. "What do you say?" I ask her with a nudge.

She grins excitedly. "I've not done a lot, so I won't get trashed."

But Zeke, Uriah, and Shauna have. This is the perfect game, in that regard.

Uriah returns with five small glasses. "We're drinking like adults tonight, kids," he says excitedly as Zeke pours a liberal amount into each glass. We settle around a coffee table on the u-shaped couch. Uriah claims the long lounge chair part, spreading out like a jackass. Tris settles beside him, so I sit on her other side. Shauna passes out drinks before she sits on my other side, on the perpendicular section of the couch. Once Zeke has his own glass poured, he sits on the end.

"Alright, let's do this!" he cheers, and we all give a pumped up response. _Why the hell not?_ "The rules are simple. If you've done something someone hasn't, take a sip. If you're the only one who takes a drink that round, you gotta tell the story. Sound good?" Everyone nods in agreement. "Excellent! Since Tris is our special guest, I think we should let her go first."

The suggestion is met by whoops from Shauna and Uriah, and I can't help but grin at her, encouragingly. She thinks for a second, considering her options, before she says, "Never have I ever… had a younger sibling."

Zeke and Shauna groan before they sip from their drinks. "The girl plays dirty, I like it!" Uriah says, laughing his ass off.

Tris turns bright red and shrugs. "It was just the first thing I thought of!"

"Oh, don't worry. We'll get you back," Shauna says with a look that makes us all laugh.

Zeke snorts. "Competitive much, babe?"

"Damn straight!" We all laugh, because if that ain't Shauna…

Uriah decides to be next in the rotation, so he starts the next round with, "Never have I ever been on an airplane."

 _Fucker_. Tris and I are the only two who drink.

Zeke goes next, giving me a smug look. "Never have I ever been in a wedding party before."

Again, Tris and I are the only two to drink, and this seems to be absolutely hilarious to my friends.

"Since we're on weddings, never have I ever picked up a date from a wedding," Shauna says with a pointed look at Zeke.

" _Shit_ ," Zeke hisses, and Uriah groans before they both drink, while the rest of us laugh.

My turn. "Never have I ever been to a wedding." Everyone groans before taking a sip.

We go around a few times before we have to stop to refill drinks, seeing as Uriah and Zeke drained the last of theirs on Tris', "Never have I ever kissed a girl." I was surprised to see Shauna take a sip, too, leaving her glass near empty. This is a story I _haven't_ heard.

"I wasn't the only one to drink, so you don't get the story," Shauna teases. Zeke laughs in the middle of filling up Uriah's glass, spilling some Fireball on the table.

"Shit, don't waste it, Ezekiel!" Uriah screeches before he literally gets down on the floor to suck the alcohol off the table.

Zeke shakes his head like he can't believe what he's witnessing. "You're a fucking animal, dude."

Uriah shakes his head. " _No,_ but every drop is sacred, bro. Respect the Fire."

Zeke only shakes his head as he tops us all off. "Whatever you say. Alright, who's next?"

"Me," Uriah grunts, still sucking Fireball off the table.

"Hurry it up, ya damn inebriate. While we're young!" Zeke shoots back, settling into the couch as he throws an arm around Shauna.

Uriah licks the table for good measure, making all of us groan in disgust, before taking his glass back to his seat. "Alright, um… Never have I ever owned a gold Camry."

Shauna busts out laughing her ass off while Zeke swears at his brother, reluctantly taking a sip. He glances at Shauna, eyebrows raised. "You think that's so funny? Well, never have I ever been shot."

Shauna's laugh turns into a groan of, "Ugh! That was one time, Zeke. _One time!_ "

I can't help the laughter pouring out of me, and neither can Zeke or Uriah. Poor Tris looks absolutely lost that we're laughing about this, of all things.

Shauna takes her drink before she explains to Tris, "I had a death wish. I used to think it was fun to walk around on the south side. That is, until a bullet found it's way in my back."

I shake my head, a little amused. "You make it sound like you got jumped in some alley."

"The bitch came out of nowhere!" she defends, which only makes Zeke laugh harder. She shoots me a look, and I nod at her, because if I don't know my best friends-

"Keep laughing, asshole, because never have I ever lost a fight to a girl."

And there goes the smile right off Zeke's face, but the rest of us get to laugh. He's the only one who takes a drink.

It's Tris' turn. "Hey, if it makes you feel better, never have I ever won a fight."

I have to laugh, because all four of us have to drink. "That's some twisted strategy, Six," I tease her with a nudge after swallowing down my Fireball.

She smirks and says in a low voice, "I play hard, Four."

The way she's looking at me, while being so physically close, has my whole body tingling and on fire. It's only now that I realize the heat of the Fireball has consumed me, swallowing my consciousness whole. Her soft lips look especially sweet in this moment, so kissable, so tempting-

"Yo, earth to Eaton," comes one of the guys, but I'm not paying attention. I go with the first thought in my head. "Never have I ever lost a fight."

" _Asshole_ ," comes Zeke's voice, but my eyes don't leave Tris' face, even when she turns to take a sip of her drink. Her eyes come back to mine, though, and when they return, they bring her smile.

"Never have I ever been knocked out cold," comes Uriah's voice, still holding back laughter, and with _it_ comes the chill of reality, seeping back in.

I see the light and warmth leave Tris' eyes, too. Cold memories stain the edges of both our thoughts, feeding me flashes of those days…

Tris and I take our drink at the same time.

As I'm setting my glass back down, I catch Zeke's eye, and I can see the knowing expression there. I've never explicitly told him anything that would give him reason to look at me like that, but he's not an idiot. Over time, I think he's pieced enough together.

Being who he is, Zeke distracts us all in the way he does best: he make us laugh. "Alright, uh, never have I ever dressed up like a Disney princess."

The tension shatters, and oh, do we laugh. It was exactly what we needed to get our minds away from darkness.

With tears in his eyes from laughing so hard, Uriah gets out, "I will say, though, I made one badass Aladdin."

"When did you ever go as Aladdin?" Zeke asks as he takes his drink, seeing as no one else took a drink.

Uriah gives his brother an incredulous look. "Halloween of '97. Do you remember anything?"

Zeke shakes his head. "No, I remember, I just thought you went as Abu, not Aladdin."

Uriah sends a pillow right at his brother's face while the rest of us laugh. If that ain't the Pedrads, I don't know what is.

We take a break while Uriah's drunken ass grabs us more cake, and we play for a few more rounds as we eat before we elect to drop the alcohol and switch to a points system. As much as I detest Marcus, having a raging hangover at his funeral is only going to make it more miserable. Even then, we only go until Shauna starts nodding off.

"Hey, we'll see you Saturday," I reassure Shauna as I start dialing for a cab. I'm not taking a chance in driving home, and it's just as easy to take a cab in the morning to pick up the car.

She concedes, giving Tris and I each a hug. We say our goodbyes inside as we wait, though Zeke and Shauna still walk us out to the cab when it arrives. They even help us grab our things from my car and load it into the cab before giving us a final wave goodbye and heading inside.

We've barely turned a corner when Tris turns to me, smiling. "We needed that," she sighs happily. "They're all so funny."

I can't help but smile, between the Fireball going right to my head, and this incredible woman doing much the same. "They are," I agree.

"I like you better, though," she says rather thickly, but it only makes my grin widden.

"Mm, you like me?" I ask, just as thickly.

"Mhm." She turns so her lips are right by my ear and whispers, "Enough to _sleep_ with you," and I swear to God, this girl is gonna be the death of me, or at least my brain, which is rather deprived of blood and oxygen right now. I know she's referring to our conversation from earlier, on our way to her house, but that doesn't prevent my imagination from going into overdrive. _Not exactly the best timing, Tobias!_

And neither is it the best timing for my inner Romeo to make his grand appearance.

Her insanely soft lips trail their way over my jaw to the corner of my lips before pulling me in for a deep kiss. She tastes like cinnamon and just a hint of chocolate and it's so goddamn good, I won't be getting enough of her soon. I kiss her greedily, and she returns the fervor, her hands snaking into my hair to grab hold and keep me there while mine clutch at her side, desperate for more of her.

Time ceases and before I know it, we're outside Marcus' house. I quickly pay the cab driver before helping Tris with our things. We're a mess trying to get inside, both of us dropping something numerous times and breaking into hysterics every time. By the time we get inside, Tris just drops everything on the ground, unable to hold it any longer.

Without another thought, I do the same before I rush to her and scoop her up, practically throwing her over my shoulder. "Tobias!" she shrieks gleefully, swatting at my back playfully. "Do not drop me," she threatens, but not without laughing.

"Not a chance," I reassure her as I make my way up the stairs. It's not without difficulty, what with the hindrance of Fireball, but we make it up safely. I set her down just inside the guest bedroom, though I let my hands linger on her waist. She's not steady on her feet, sure, but I don't want to let her go. I want her closer, so close…

Her eyes ensnare me with their mystique. Just one look and she possesses me in every way someone can possess another without taking away their free will. She has me, and not one single ounce of me wants otherwise.

She gives me a soft smile before she moves away, headed towards her bag. I follow her lead, headed to my suitcase to do the same. Her smile was anything but a conclusion, and I'm anxious to see what her next move is, so I find myself glancing over in her direction every few seconds.

I watch her pull out her pajamas before taking off her shoes. She meets my eyes briefly, flashing me a shy smile before turning back around so her back is to me. My eyes dart between her standing form and the full length mirror to her right, so I can see her beautiful face in the reflection. She looks nervous, but thoughtful and determined, if the combination is possible.

Just when my eyes dart to her back again, without any warning, she grabs the hem of her top and strips it off like it's nothing, leaving her in just a plain black bra. "Shit, Tris!" I say as I turn away, trying to give her privacy.

"It's okay, Tobias. I don't care." She sounds so sure, so unquestioningly decided, I swear I have to be hallucinating, but when she says, "You can turn around," it leaves me little room to argue with myself.

"Tobias," I hear her say softly again, and I look over to her. She's turned enough so she can be looking at me directly. It's hard to read her expression at first, but the longer I hold her gaze, the more she seems to be smiling.

Once she seems satisfied, she turns back around and continues undressing. _Fuck, I cannot watch this._ Instead, I turn back to my own bag and change, too, hoping that my drunk ass isn't completely reading everything wrong. She doesn't say anything, so I must be in the clear.

I've barely got my shirt on when she's at my side, a toothbrush in hand. She gives me a shy look, a question, really, and all I do is return it as I grab my own before taking her hand and leading her to the bathroom. We stand side by side, drunkenly fighting over one sink, or rather, getting water and toothpaste everywhere, but it feels so right.

Being with Tris feels so right.

By the time Tris is snuggling up to my side like she did last night, alarm set and everything quiet around us, I'm exhausted, but in the best way. For the first time in a long time, and maybe even ever, everything feels complete.

 _So long as she's here, everything is complete..._ Without another thought, I slip into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 **AN- Thank you all so much for your patience! I appreciate it so much, with everything going on in life. The next chapter will be a little delayed as well, but I fully intend on having chapter 25 up my the 25th.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed the little break they had at the Pedrad's and my guilty pleasure of including drinking games. With everything to come, these two needed some laughter and fun. After all, the next chapter is the funeral. What all do you think is gonna go down there? Who's ready to say, 'Good riddance!' to the trash that is Marcus? (Me!) We shall see what is to unfold...**

 **And as always, thank you so much for the continued support! Your reviews always make my day, so thank you to all who leave them. You're the best!**

 **-Willow**


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